


Viemos para ficar

by PunkHazard



Series: Synaesthesia [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10821627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: Genji keeps accidentally recruiting people to Overwatch.





	1. Chapter 1

The news that Korea's omnic has, once again, emerged from the waves to threaten her country is old hat to Hana now. She suits up, climbs into her mech and lines up in the hangar, thumb tapping anxiously without depressing the button on her joystick. She was more nervous at her last Starcraft tournament, just before enlistment. 

Today, Zarya hefts her particle cannon over her shoulder and bumps the chassis of the mech with her elbow. Pharah and Morrison stand at attention, eyes focused on the briefing screen beside Tracer and Winston. Lúcio and Genji hang back-- Lúcio with his arms crossed over his chest and Genji crouched in the rafters overhead. Zenyatta's orb sits on her shoulder, warm and bright. The rest of the unit has already engaged, running a standard Terran vs. Protoss opening to buy them some time. 

"Overwatch," says Winston, "will disable the titan completely. We don't allow it to retreat. I understand that MEKA's managed to accomplish this before, but it returned anyway."

"We still haven't figured out how," Hana confirms, "but it took longer and came back weaker. Escaped faster, though. That's how we knew it was adapting."

"We'll have more eyes on it this time," Winston answers, the fur along his shoulders and arms bristling as he rolls his shoulders, "no offense to your strategists."

Hana nods. "Whatever takes it out for good."

Tracer pats Winston on the shoulder. "Me and the big guy here will join up with you all once the evacuations are finished."

"Alright," says Soldier:76, "let's move out. MEKA's been out there for an hour while we were getting briefed."

Lúcio trails the others out of the hangar, waiting on Genji to drop to the ground beside him as he approaches the door. "Ready?" he asks, grinning up at the cyborg. 

Genji looks at him, turning physically in place to gauge Lúcio's current condition before they head out. "Always," he shoots back, hand landing briefly on the small of his back before he's off, across the street and up a building to catch up with Hana's mech. Lúcio kicks off the concrete, skates gripping brick to bring him in range of Morrison and Zarya. He looks over his shoulder and catches a glimpse of Winston and Tracer moving toward the evacuation area, then taps into the public channel.

"Looks like MEKA's keeping it busy on Haeundae Beach," Lúcio announces, checking the status updates on his HUD, "so let's rendezvous there."

"Nice pronunciation," Hana quips over the line, her tone on the border of teasing and impressed. Lúcio gets six other affirmatives as he scales a building for a wider field of view, small chevrons on his HUD indicating the positions of his teammates. The omnic is visible not far in the distance, a massive humanoid machine looming over the low, sweeping roofs along the coast, nearly as tall as the towers dotting Busan's skyline. Dark smudges against the sky around it pelt it with ammunition, corraling it by the water. Pharah, smaller and more agile than the others, ducks and weaves entirely too close to the omnic. A harmony orb periodically moves between her and Zarya, Zenyatta positioned on the other side of the titan, far out of its reach.

Lúcio's tapped into three channels simultaneously: Genji's (always open), Overwatch's (relatively quiet) and MEKA's. Hana's team dutifully announces their positions, the titan's movements as it shifts to guard or retaliate, changes in terrain. "Genji, D.Va," he says, once the omnic's attention seems concentrated inland, "you're clear. MEKA, can you bait it in?"

He watches Genji's chevron (marked in green) begin its climb along the omnic's leg while the rest of Overwatch's strike team approaches. Soldier's concentrated his fire on one of its hands, chipping away at its thumb. Zarya aims her pulse cannon at its feet, her eyes on the formation above her head. 

Hana pops her boosters, skirting around the titan's legs to position herself at its back. She waits a few seconds, watching the omnic shift its weight forward before launching herself vertically. Genji hops off the hinge he'd nestled himself in, latching to a handhold on the side of Hana's mech as she makes her way up. His voice is calm and low as he indicates a cluster of charred and damaged plating along the titan's hip. "Its sensors are damaged here," Genji says, his own boosters propelling him to the flat panel. "We should wait for Tracer and Winston before proceeding further."

"Careful," Lúcio murmurs under a chorus of welcomes to Hana from her squad, "don't let it see them. Tracer and Winston are on their way now."

"About three minutes out," Tracer supplies helpfully.

Lúcio turns away from the omnic, a smooth glide on his skates, and boosts himself across a series of rooftops until Tracer and Winston are in range. He drops to street level, taxiing them to the scene in half the time it would've taken otherwise, briefing them as they go. "If you wanna King Kong up there and give those two a hand," Lúcio says, head canting toward Genji and D.Va, "I think we can distract it long enough for MEKA to close in."

"Let's do it," Tracer says immediately, whooping as Winston curls one massive arm around her waist and leaps into the air. He lands on the titan's knee joint, slings Lena over his shoulder and makes his way steadily up the omnic's leg. It seems to feel his weight, arms flailing toward its knees before swinging back up to guard its head as MEKA moves in to bombard it. Its hip swings around, scraping the edge of a building.

It takes Lúcio a second to remember where Hana and Genji have positioned themselves, but it's Pharah's voice over the comms. "D.Va?" she says, her silhouette hovering still for a second, "Genji?"

Hana's mech pings twice on Lúcio's HUD, her voice a little breathless but so far as he can tell, she's unharmed. "We're okay!"

Genji's muted himself from the main channel, but Lúcio taps into his line just in time to hear him mutter to himself, _"Not like this."_

His chevron's hanging about a meter off the jagged edge of the building, swinging briefly before it scuttles up the wall and into a room through its newly-broken window. Lúcio pings him, switching his output line. "Genji?"

Genji's breath is short, ragged. "I'm alright," he huffs, going silent when Lúcio doesn't answer. "It's manageable," Genji amends, glancing at his own spiking vitals and grimacing at what Lúcio must already have noticed. He hops off the edge of the building, popping his boosters near the ground to cushion his landing, bringing him even farther out of range of Lúcio's music.

Lúcio tabs his communications back to the main channel. "Tracer, Winston?"

"Winston's still making his way up!" Tracer announces, sounding breathless. "I'll have to start over from the beginning. Took a bit of a fall."

It takes Lúcio a second to pick Morrison out on the field, another to pinpoint Tracer and Genji, the two of them still for the moment, regrouping. He stays in the main channel, considering whether or not it would be worth it to try his luck with Morrison and deciding to go for it. "Hey, 76," he says, "fall back half a block and drop a biotic."

He gets a short grunt in return and Soldier:76's signature backing down the way they approached from. Tracer and Genji emerge from opposite, dilapidated alleys in two blurs of speed, both of them stepping into the field of Morrison's biotic. 

Tracer's ping signals the start of her message, a cheery "Thanks, love!" before she's off again. Genji gives Jack a nod with a simple thanks as well before he's up another wall and out of sight. Up ahead, MEKA withdraws at a particularly violent swipe from the omnic, backing off to gauge its next move. Lúcio drops into a crouch, watching Tracer's signal move ahead again, this time circling around to approach from the back. Winston continues his way up, Hana's mech hovering near him. Genji's retreated to the roof of a nearby building and gone still.

Lúcio mutes his other channels, leaving only the one he shares with Genji on. It's rare that Genji isn't moving, but it doesn't necessarily mean that anything's wrong; Lúcio asks, "Everything alright?"

"I am waiting for an opportunity," answers Genji, his words smooth and sure. "Care to join me?"

Lúcio watches Winston make his way to the titan's faceplate, banging on its most sensitive receptors with both fists as D.Va's mech latches to its neck and she ejects from the cockpit. He kicks off, speeding himself down the street in a straight shot toward the target. "I'm on my way."

Hana lands on the omnic's shoulder as her mech explodes, Genji scaling the titan in two jumps, a boosted dash and one last extended crawl up its chassis. Given the brief opening, Winston leaps away onto the nearest roof as Lúcio approaches and starts his own ascent between two walls of a narrow alley. Pharah's peeled off, gaining some distance and aiming her rockets at its head now that Winston's vacated his position. "Lúcio," Genji murmurs, stalled for a second on his climb. 

"Yeah?"

Genji scuttles out of the way of another mech, this one attaching itself to some damaged chest plating. The rest of Hana's squad follows suit, nearly a dozen units in position on the omnic's body, vibrating with barely-contained energy as they prepare to detonate. "Let's talk when this is over," he says, eyes on the mechs hurtling in to catch their pilots as they eject. Genji swings himself up to join Hana on the omnic's shoulder, both of them taking cover in the seam between torso and a wide, flat collar plate.

"Copy that," Lúcio calls back, skidding to a stop on the roof of the last standing building in range of Haeundae Beach. He looks up, whistling under his breath as the units explode, each of them carefully placed at weakened joints and seams in the omnic's armor. MEKA has been formulating strategies to beat back the omnic since its last attack, though they hadn't planned for anyone to be _on_ it when they self-destructed. Still, other than a spike in their pulses (expected, given the circumstances) Genji and Hana's vitals look totally normal. The omnic lists to the side as its legs give out, shoulder smashing against the side of a wrecked skyscraper and lodging in place. He inhales, rolls his shoulders and starts forward again.

Inside the cramped seam of armor they'd fit themselves into, Hana twists as the titan begins to collapse, connectors at all of its joints severed. She moves to haul herself up when it finally comes to a brief stop, but pulls up when a tug on the back of her head holds her in place. She glances behind, eyes widening at the sight of her ponytail caught between two pieces of fitted metal. "Are you _kidding_ me?!"

Genji's voice, low and calm, reverberates by her ear. "Song-kun, don't move."

Hana comes free with a cool breeze against the back of her neck, a sinuous hiss of metal through hair, her head suddenly much lighter than it was before. Genji pulls her out of their shelter as the building crumbles under the weight of the omnic. Hana scrambles for purchase as it tilts into open space and then against the next ruined building, the impact jolting her loose before Genji can make his way to her. In a flash of blue and green, Lúcio collides into her, throwing both of them several meters across the moving surface. They slide further before they tip over the smooth edge of the titan's armor, Lúcio swearing quietly while he tries to grip his skates against the shoulderpiece and then solid brick. He manages, barely, Hana's weight dragging them down much faster than his equipment is designed to handle. 

Genji joins them seconds later, zipping past before he calls for Lúcio to drop her. 

Hana fights the impulse to cling when Lúcio's grip slackens and her stomach does an odd lurch in the brief freefall before Genji drags her momentum sideways and they land on the street in front of another half-demolished building. Genji alights on his feet, not even short of breath; Hana rolls to a stop some distance away, coughing and nursing bruised knees. "Sorry," says Genji, sounding amused as he raps on his chest armor, "I don't think my catching you would have been better."

Rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself gingerly up on her elbows, Hana sighs before she allows Genji to pull her to her feet. Better a little bruised than pancaked on the sidewalk, at least. "It's fine, sunbae." She tries to breathe in and winces at the creak of ribs against her lungs. "I'm trained for stuff like this."

Lúcio flips a switch on his amplifier as he approaches. "I got you. You'll be alright in a second."

Hana's gaze snaps to a movement in her periphery as Lúcio's music goes to work, sharp eyes locked on a shape crawling out of the wreckage and scuttling into the shadow of a collapsed storefront. "Hey," she says, pointing, "over there!"

Genji moves faster than Lúcio can properly follow, shuriken in hand. He takes a second to aim, then sends all three stars hurling at a tiny machine scrambling away from the debris on thick, jointed cords. He pins it to the wall, his boosters already charging to retrieve it when the building creaks above them. Before Genji can dash in, Lúcio snags the ribbon of his helmet and pulls hard enough to send his head snapping back. Lúcio looks behind them, then pings Lena twice to draw her attention. "Tracer! Can you bring that in?"

"Leave it to me!" Lena blinks past them in three flashes, jerking the omnic free from the wall and warping back beside them. She deposits it into Genji's outstretched hand just a piece of the building breaks away from its tenous hold and shatters on the concrete where she was standing only a second ago. Peering at the spider-looking omnic, eyes narrowed suspiciously, Tracer looks askance at Lúcio. "What is that thing?"

Lúcio inspects it, his headset snapping photos as it thrashes in Genji's grip. "CPU," he says, squeezing Genji's shoulder in apology for the rough handling. 

The flailing legs pause for a second, just long enough for Genji to look elsewhere before a jack shoots straight for his face. Lúcio intercepts it centimeters from the port of his headgear, Hana's hand fisted just above Lúcio's on the cable. Genji's shoulders still, the point of his visor dropping slightly before he slowly sets the omnic into Lúcio's waiting hand and backs away. "Thank you," he says, sounding distant. "All of you."

Lúcio exhales through his teeth, silently relieved that they won't be finding out exactly what would happen if it did manage to connect to Genji's cybernetics. "Let's lock it up."

* * *

After the debriefing, a quick physical exam and half a sandwich, Lúcio collapses face-first into his bed, sighing against a freshly-laundered hotel blanket. The high from their victory is... taking some time to kick in, Lúcio mostly just wracked with exhaustion from the all-nighters he'd pulled planning with Winston and MEKA, the exertion of scaling a skyscraper-sized omnic with nothing but his hard-light skates. Beside him, his mattress dips as Genji settles on the edge, cool palm sprawling between his shoulder blades. 

Lúcio sighs, rolling over onto his back to grin at the cyborg, motioning for him to remove the visor. Genji complies, popping off his helmet as well and mussing his flattened hair back into a shadow of stylishness. Yawning, Lúcio narrows his eyes at the thoughtful look on Genji's face. "What'd you want to talk about?" he asks, pushing himself up on his elbows.

It takes a second-- always does, with Genji, but Lúcio's learned to appreciate that beat of careful consideration-- but he finally asks, "Have you considered properly taking the lead on operations?" Genji pulls one foot up, wrapping his arms around his knee as he regards Lúcio. "I can clear it with Winston," he says, "but you have the ability. The team trusts you."

"He's not gonna have a problem with it?"

"Winston is a scientist. He wants to do science."

"Hey," Lúcio balks, "I like science too!"

Genji smiles, one brow cocking. "As a means to an end," he points out.

Conceding the fact, Lúcio sits up completely, pulling a hand down his face. "I've considered it, yeah, but ranks and titles aren't really my style." He makes a small noise of complaint as Genji shuffles closer, both arms curling around his waist and pulling him in. When Genji's nose dips into the crook of his neck he adds, "Wasn't sure Soldier would be open to taking orders from me, but it worked out."

"He can recognize a logical command when he hears one." Genji sighs contentedly against Lúcio's skin, his eyes sliding shut as a warm hand rises to cup the back of his head, thumb stroking lightly along the edge of one vertebral segment. "You also," Genji tells him, "have the charisma to inspire loyalty and to deal with press."

"Diplomacy isn't really my thing."

"Diplomacy can be learned." Pulling away, Genji meets Lúcio's eyes and presses their foreheads together, his expression tired but serious. "And if Overwatch remains an independent team instead of the international task force it once was, diplomacy will be less of a priority."

The idea doesn't seem appealing to Lúcio at all, fatigue in the drowsy set of his shoulders, the tired curve of his mouth. He's sure that given some rest and time to consider it further, Genji will turn out to be absolutely right; he's never minded leadership, preferring to orchestrate and execute rather than stick to someone else's plan, but after a week of nose-to-grindstone detailing the last thing Lúcio wants to do is consider the future. "Can't we just congratulate each other on taking out the big omnic right now?" he murmurs, dragging Genji down as he flops back to lie on his side.

"Ah... sorry." Genji smiles at him, then leans in to press his lips to Lúcio's forehead, his nose, his mouth. "You did well today, Lúcio."

"Aw, thanks--"

A grin. "But you need to get on my level."

" _Hey._ " He doesn't have a chance to protest further, Genji surging up to loom over him, hands at either side of his waist. Lúcio says nothing else for a few long seconds, blinking as he looks up, eyes lingering on the tender awe on Genji's face. "Hey," he repeats, air suddenly very difficult to pull into his lungs, "don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

Softly, "Like the way I feel when I look at you."

Genji's vents pop open and he has to look away, steam hissing out of his shoulders as Lúcio gives in to a fit of laughter. "We should get ready for Song-kun's party," Genji mutters, eyes locked resolutely on the headboard. 

Lúcio waits for Genji to look back down to waggle his eyebrows. "Or we could do something else."

"It is in an hour," Genji gently reminds him. "Neither of us brought formalwear."

"We can totally finish up in ten."

"Why waste our energy now," Genji asks, flippant, "when I'm going to keep you up all night?"

How Genji can so innocently say something so rife with implications is _still_ a mystery to Lúcio, especially considering how easily flustered the cyborg is otherwise, but he obligingly allows Genji to unlatch and remove the skates, then retrieve his prosthetics and pull him to his feet. Lúcio snags Genji's wrist before he can flit away for some other pre-dinner task, tugging him toward the bathroom (and its tiny shower stall) with a simple, "Join me!" 

Genji doesn't need to be told twice, meekly following Lúcio in and kicking the door shut behind them.

* * *

They find Zenyatta in Hana's room, cheerfully encouraging each of her steadily more ridiculous clothing choices as she ducks in and out of her bathroom. Genji winces underneath his visor at the sight of her hair, an asymmetrical, angled chop across her neck the best he could manage given the space and time allowed to them crammed into the tiny space behind a titan omnic's armor. Hana doesn't seem to mind, other than the added difficulty in choosing clothes to flatter her new style.

She grins at them, motioning at her latest pick: a loose t-shirt and a pair of tie-dyed fitted jeans. "Hyung! Sunbae!"

Genji waves, glancing down at himself and his armor. "I think," he quips, "I may be underdressed for this."

Flipping her hair, Hana gives him a resigned smile. "Well I can't find anything that'll work with this," she sighs, "so we can both be underdressed. I'll go naked like you."

"Clothing is overrated," Genji agrees, "but if you would like me to fix that for you, I can try."

"What do _you_ know about cutting hair?"

"Enough." Genji considers telling her about all the time he's spent in salons as a younger man-- waiting on girls, getting his own hair cut and dyed, watching the stylists work. He reconsiders; that was a simpler time, and nostalgia makes him ache for what he'll never have again. Instead he tilts his head to the side, pitch ticking playfully up as he tells her with all the sage-like wisdom he can muster, "I have some experience with it. Dyeing, too."

Lúcio snorts, muffling a laugh into his fist. 

"But," Genji continues, ignoring him and the skeptical look Hana sends his way, "it's because of me that your hair is now like this, so allow me to help."

"I was going to go to a salon tomorrow."

Lúcio grins, watching Genji produce a pair of scissors from a compartment in his armor, and then he motions for Zenyatta to follow him out. "Let him, Hana, I bet he's a pro with anything that's got a sharp edge on it. I'll ask if Zarya's got a buzzer or something."

"Oh," Hana calls after him as Genji tosses her a towel to sling over her shoulders, "so you're saying he's a pro Genji?"

Lúcio's laugh echoes back to them, followed by a quick, "That's exactly what I'm saying!"

"Song-kun."

"Sunbae," Hana says, pouting as she trails Genji into the bathroom and hands him a fine-toothed comb, plopping herself on the tile in front of him as he sits on the edge of the tub, "it's fine if you call me Hana, okay?"

Cybernetic fingers run through her hair, smoothing it, flipping it this way and that to gain a clearer picture of how it all comes together; Genji hasn't done this in many years. "Oh?" he says, an inquisitive sound. 

"I mean, if you wanted to." Hana holds still, her eyes flickering up as Genji flattens and pulls her fringe between two fingers, then begins to cut. The technique is impressive enough, his grip not unlike the professional hairdressers she's sat for, and she blinks as hair flutters down in front of her face. "'Cause it's easier."

He makes another sound, soft and contemplative. "Is that what you would prefer?"

Hana realizes abruptly that it's been years since the two of them have been alone together, Genji's unerring confidence in the field and in other company the only thing she's seen of him since that first night in the arcade. It's rare that she can catch him in a quiet, thoughtful mood-- something he reserves almost exclusively for Zenyatta and Lúcio. "Why 'Song-kun', anyway?" Hana asks, looking down as Genji adjusts the position of her head, her eyes on the tips of his feet where his toes should be. "That's for boys, isn't it?"

The clipping moves across the nape of her neck, a satisfying hiss of shears through a handful of her hair. "At the time," Genji says, "we did not know each other as we do now. It was an acknowledgement of your experience, while taking into account your age. After that, you just became Song-kun to me."

"Okay," Hana says imperiously after a second of mulling it over, "I'll allow it." Genji doesn't append suffixes to anyone else's name and it's not as if she _minds_ a special form of address, just for her. Hana wrinkles her nose when a lock of hair tickles it, drooping in her face before Genji notices, sweeping it up and cutting it short as well.

There's a fond laugh in his voice, hitching where the synthesizer doesn't register. "And I will try to call you Hana more often."

She lets Genji work in silence for a while, carefully snipping now that the larger strokes have been handled. He never seemed the type to pay so much attention to appearances, but from what Hana's gleaned of his youth it's not such a stretch. She reaches down, fingers sliding across a seam in his foot, tapping lightly until he shifts it back. "How's everything going with you and Lúcio?" Hana asks, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she turns her head to look at him, Genji's hand falling still.

"Everything is fine," he answers after a moment, declining to elaborate.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"That was definitely a date," Hana guesses, "that time we met up in Hanamura? You guys never actually told me how you got together." 

Genji seems to have shut down, his body going entirely still except for the vents on his shoulders very slowly spiraling open. Hana waits for nearly thirty seconds before Genji sighs, resigned to the idea that she's as merciless in conversation as in StarCraft and has no intention of changing the subject to spare him. "It was our first date," he says, the memory of that day not quite as clear as it was, filtered through the last few months. New memories (happier memories, sometimes) superceding the old. 

It takes a second for Genji to figure out whether Hana's sudden " _What?!_ " is delighted or angry, but at her expression he figures it's both. 

"We met in Numbani, when his concert there was interrupted." He gestures for her to sit still again, brushing out loose hairs from what's left before he goes in with the scissors again. "Both of us had business in Hanamura, so we went together. The situation... escalated."

Hana gives him a look, somewhat incredulous but mostly amused. "Wow," she scoffs.

"What?"

"You took him to the arcade on your first date," Hana laughs, "you _nerd_."

"I wanted to impress him," Genji retorts immediately as she returns to hair-cutting posture, "so I took him to meet Hana 'D.Va' Song on our first date."

What he can see of Hana's face flushes, her back straightening and her shoulders pulling back. "Oh yeah?" she says, trying to sound nonchalant, "Was he impressed?"

Genji brushes clippings off her shoulder, pausing for a second when he tries to blow shorter strands away and manages to just cycle air behind his filter. "Of course," he says, hesitating for a second before unlatching his visor and setting it aside. Hana's head turns, just enough to see him set his headgear on the tile beside her, and she quickly faces forward again, holding still at the puff of air against the back of her neck. 

"How short are you planning to go?" she asks, hands folded tightly in her lap as he goes back to work, making no move to replace the mask.

"How long would you like me to leave it?"

Pursing her lips, Hana tilts her head forward, to give Genji a better look at the back of her head. "I guess you can decide."

When Lúcio returns with a buzzer, Genji's already replaced his visor and trimmed her hair jauntily short, with a choppy side-swept fringe. Lúcio lobs the buzzer across the room, aiming above Genji's head just in case his cyborg ninja senses fail him, then retreats to Hana's bed, sitting on the edge of her mattress. Genji quickly shaves the lower back and sides of Hana's head into a precise, meticulous fade. 

He finishes just as Zarya pokes her head in, her expression breaking into a feral grin at his handiwork. "Maybe should let you do _my_ hair from now on," Zarya teases, extending her hand for the buzzer. 

"I will have to charge," Genji retorts, ruffling what's left of Hana's hair and nudging her to her feet. "Do you like it?"

Hana takes a minute to check her reflection before she bounds across the room to greet Zarya, letting the older woman muss the new cut while Genji hands back the buzzer. "Hehhh, it's like Zarya-noona's, but cooler! My head feels so light..."

"D.Va," Zarya says, very seriously as she pulls Hana into a headlock, "you are aware those are fighting words."

"It feels so weird." When Zarya releases her Hana runs her palm along the back of her head, twisting her fingers into the short hair on top of her head. "I never had the guts to cut my hair this short before, but I always wanted to. I know exactly what's gonna go with this."

Genji drifts to Hana's bed when Zarya takes her leave and D.Va ducks back into her bathroom with an armful of clothes. He gently scoops Lúcio's legs up by the ankles and shifts them properly onto the mattress (Hana's sheets will be changed by housekeeping staff by the end of the day, anyway). Zenyatta, floating by his elbow, pulls the rumpled blanket over his shoulders. "I did not know," Zenyatta says softly, "hair-styling was a talent of yours, Genji."

"When I was younger my style took hours of maintenance every month, so I learned to do it myself." In hindsight it had been a trivial waste of time; yet another excuse to get out of the house, one more regret to add onto a heaping stack of it. He looks down, reluctant to wake Lúcio but a clock ticking down on his HUD, eyes lingering for a few seconds on Lúcio's sleeping face. It's not remotely a new sight to him, but in the last few weeks it had been increasingly rare, especially as Korea's titan omnic drew closer to shore. Even beyond the sessions with Winston, Lúcio had stayed up well into the morning hours to continue refining their data. Genji drops one hand lightly to his shoulder as he says, "We should prepare to go."

"Let him sleep for a while, sunbae, he's ready anyway." Hana pops out of the bathroom in a pair of fitted black jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt, a light oversized hoodie pulled haphazardly on over it. It's a different look from her usual hiding-from-paparazzi gear, no beanie, sunglasses or gauze mask to obscure her face, but with her hair so short she hardly needs it. "How's this?"

Smiling crookedly under his visor, Genji makes Hana's trademark heart-hands. "It looks good, Hana."

"I bet my squad's gonna freak out," she says cheerfully, shaking her head so her hair fluffs up, a cowlick stubbornly jutting out at the back. Genji resists the urge to try and tame it-- he'd tried a few times, but short of slathering on some kind of heavy hair product (unnecessary, for a celebratory Overwatch-MEKA dinner) decided that it was better left to its own devices. Hana grins at them, eyes softening at Zenyatta's tattered monk's robes and Lúcio's threadbare shirt. "We can all go shopping for the award ceremony tomorrow."

"I think we will need to," Genji agrees, "or I may have to borrow spares from Fareeha."

* * *

However MEKA's managed to buy out an entire restaurant for the night, Genji decides not to question it, or even if that's an entirely appropriate use of government funds. They've finally managed to defeat the omnic that'd been threatening Korea for _years_ , laying waste to both human settlements as well as omnic enclaves-- ironically, one of the few things that'd somewhat improved omnic-human relations in the area. (He'd brought it up with Zenyatta, briefly, but was only told to enjoy the party and think on it tomorrow, on a day that isn't meant for celebration. _Wise omnic._ )

Hana's at a table with several members of her squad-- four of them having been part of MEKA from the beginning, the only surviving founding members. They knock back toast after toast of soju, someone swinging by Lúcio's seat every once in a while to keep him topped up. Lúcio himself makes his rounds, obligingly joining Hana whenever she motions for him to join her at another table to greet the pilots he'd met on his last trip to Korea. At some point he heads outside, away from the savory, smoky scent of meat cooking over charcoal.

From the corner he's decided to lurk in, Genji idly tracks the movements of his fellow Overwatch operatives: Pharah ducking into the restaurant garden for some air, Zarya at a table of very excitable, very drunk young pilots alternately challenging her to drinking contests and arm-wrestling matches. Tracer and Winston sample their way through a heaping portion of side dishes and barbequed meat; Soldier sitting stiffly between them. Zenyatta's orbs glow dimly in the far corner, nearly obscured by the circle of pilots around him. 

Outside, Lúcio kicks back on a large, flat stone by a weak lantern. The fresh air clears his head, cuts through the haze of alcohol dulling his senses. He watches Fareeha come through the door, giving her a short wave as she draws up to him, stretching her arms. Even without the Raptora suit she's intimidatingly tall, broad shoulders squared, her strides long and sure. "Hey," she says, snapping off a quick salute as she gives him a once-over, sharp eyes picking out every detail from his posture to his clothing even in the dim lighting. "Tired?"

"A bit," Lúcio answers, patting a rock next to him. "Good work out there today," he says as she sits, "seeing you in action was _awesome_! Wish we got to work together more."

"You're telling me!" She has the same calm, confident bearing as Genji but no hesitation to make eye contact, fierce dark eyes fixed on Lúcio's face. "Those call-outs really helped. I haven't heard anyone coordinate like that since Reyes was in command."

Lúcio immediately flushes at the praise, internally thankful that he doesn't have vents like Genji's, or else they'd be clouding up the entire garden. "The clutch rockets!" he shoots back. "Seriously, let's hit the training room sometime."

Pharah nods once; a promise if he's ever seen one, or at least a solid plan to make it happen. She gives him a curious look next, features softening minutely at the shift in topic. "I heard when Tracer caught up to the omnic, too. What happened?"

"Yeah, Genji almost died." That isn't new to either of them; Pharah huffs, hiding a quiet laugh behind her fist. Gesturing as he talks, Lúcio briefly motions at the restaurant's building to give her an idea of their positioning earlier. "The building he pinned it to was coming down, so I figured Lena could get in and out way faster, and we were lucky she was around or we might've lost track of it."

"I've seen him get out of some pretty hairy situations," she tells him, brow raised.

"Oh, right. You guys knew each other."

"Not well." Pharah closes her eyes, looking almost as exhausted as Lúcio feels but handling it with significantly more grace. She crosses her arms and shifts, the heel of her boots scraping across the garden pebbles at their feet. "Genji ran missions with Blackwatch more," she clarifies, "but Gabe said he and Jesse were two of his best. I was so jealous!"

"You remember what he was like back then?"

"Quiet, mostly." She points at herself, eyes flickering skyward as she tries to dredge up the old memories. "He was nice to me, but the others were always nervous around him."

"That's weird," Lúcio muses, folding his arms over his knees and burying his face in them. The garden spins slowly, tilting with each rush of blood in his ears. "Jesse said he was a pretty angry guy."

Blinking in surprise, Fareeha smiles gently at him. "He was always polite to Angela and my mother," she says, realization dawning on her face, "and he and Tracer were almost inseperable."

"Oh," Lúcio groans into the space between his knees, "I'm starting to see a pattern here."

That gets another laugh. "You know, I think you're right."

Looking up, Lúcio pins Pharah with a look. He idly notes that she has a _very nice_ laugh and he'd never heard it before today, but they haven't had much time to get to know each other and this is as good a time as any. "What about you? How's your break from Helix going?"

"Very well, actually." A wink. Pharah thumbs up the wide sleeves of her shirt, cybernetics whirring as she brings her arm up and flexes. "Crushing titan omnics in my spare time."

"With your biceps?"

She flexes her other arm, thick muscle bunching and cording from her shoulders to the bionic connectors at her elbows. "Welcome to the gun show," she quips, having clearly spent too much time around Zarya.

"Hey," Lúcio laughs, clasping his hands over his own upper arms as she leans in for a better look, "you don't have to show off! But if you can spare some height off your, what, 200cm, I'll let it slide."

Pharah scoffs, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She gives him a long look, eyes narrowed before she stands, brushing off the seat of her pants and turning to regard him properly. "You know," she says after a second, "if you want to take the lead on more assignments, I don't think any of us would have a problem with it. It's actually kind of nice."

Lúcio makes a thoughtful sound, meeting her eyes with a curious quirk of his brow. "Kind of nice?"

"Knowing that you're the one directing us." Her field promotion to captain brings as much grief as pride, but Fareeha's never minded leadership-- as long as it doesn't interfere with the mission set in front of her. Having someone to provide perspective in the field when she's in the thick of an operation would make all of their jobs safer. "I can help, but we can't see much from the front lines."

"I don't have your kind of experience," Lúcio tells her, flashing her an apologetic grin. "The operations I ran were a little different."

"It will take time," she confirms, but the open confidence in her expression-- some belief in Lúcio's ability, his leadership, whatever it is that has people hanging their hopes on him-- steadies the thread of doubt in his mind, "but you definitely have the potential. Just think about it."

Lúcio mulls that over, pushing himself to his feet as well. He barely clears her shoulder and notes with internal glee that Pharah's _significantly_ taller than Genji-- he'll have to tease him about it later. "Did Genji talk to you about this?" he asks offhandedly, aiming for casual but as tipsy as he is might have mishandled the tone. Pharah doesn't notice or ignores it for his benefit, her head cocking back with an amused lift of her brows.

"He was saying," she answers, "that you should order him around more, but I didn't ask for details. It got me thinking, though."

Lúcio sputters, torn between mortification and slight curiosity as he files that tidbit of information away for later. "I'm gonna kill him," he declares.

Fareeha winks at him. "I'll see you inside, Lúcio."


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Lúcio rejoins Genji in his booth, the party's boisterous atmosphere has calmed and he's wobbled past tipsy right into plastered territory. He makes his way to Genji's corner, grinning when a glass of cold water is pressed into his hands and he's lightly pulled to sit. There's some lukewarm meat on his plate, plenty of side dishes left scattered around on the table; Genji's hand on his back, thumb tapping lightly on the bony ridge of his spine.

"Hey," Lúcio says, picking up a pair of chopsticks and reaching across the table for a small plate of potato salad, "not gonna socialize?"

"Pass," answers Genji. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat to watch Lúcio pick through the selection of food. He'd eaten sporadically earlier when there was more activity to distract, but in the dim now-quiet restaurant, Lúcio loads up his plate.

"Did you really," he says around a mouthful of rice, "tell Pharah that I should order you around?" He swallows the food, eyes fixed directly on the line of Genji's visor. "Are you into that?"

Genji doesn't respond immediately, starting and stopping a few times before he takes a deep breath, exhales slowly and clarifies, "I said that you rarely ask for things, and it would be nice if you were more specific." He ducks his head at Lúcio's understanding nod, waiting for him to take a drink of water before leaning in close and murmuring into his ear, "But I would also not be opposed to the other thing."

Other than a small hitch halfway through Lúcio's sip, he gives no sign of having been startled by Genji's words, reflexes apparently slowed by alcohol. He carefully replaces his glass on the table before looking sideways at Genji, a skewed grin on his face. "Have you thought about it?"

Genji piles salad onto Lúcio's plate and refills his water from the glass carafe on their table. "Maybe."

"I always figured," Lúcio says, his free hand finding Genji's and pulling it under the table, "you like to be in control."

From a distance they probably look enough like any other pair of teammates, but Genji can feel his vents open a sliver as Lúcio's fingers intertwine with his. The restaurant is public enough that Genji's nerves scream for him to pull away but a quick glance around the dining area tells him that even if someone were looking directly at them, they'd see nothing out of the ordinary. "It's not so bad," Genji says softly, "trusting myself to someone who knows me as you do."

Lúcio squeezes, a wild grin on his face. "Tonight?"

"Tonight."

* * *

Genji staggers out of the restaurant after Zenyatta, bent at the waist with Lúcio's arm slung over his shoulders as they trail the rest of Overwatch back to the hotel by MEKA's base. Hana clings to the sash around Zenyatta's hips, eyes narrowed as she shuffles behind him, occasionally pressing her feverish cheek to the cool metal of his shoulder plate. Lúcio's weight sags against Genji's side, his stride unsteady. They pull up in front of the glass sliding doors, pausing briefly on the street until Lúcio gives them the all-clear to head inside. 

Outside Hana's room, Zenyatta looks at Genji, gesturing vaguely as she groans and hunches her shoulders, swaying until he catches her elbow and holds her in place. "Will she be all right?" he asks. "I am afraid that I do not know much about humans in this state."

"She'll be fine, master." Genji's lips quirk into a wry smile under his visor as Zenyatta inserts Hana's keycard into the door slot and leads her slowly inside. Genji straightens as Lúcio shifts to stand in front of him, curling his arms over his shoulders as the smaller man leans tiredly against his chest. "As long as she drinks plenty of water."

"Understood." Pausing as Hana stumbles into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her, Zenyatta turns to Genji, his hands folded seriously in his lap. The lights on his head flash in a steady, thoughtful pattern. "Genji," he says after a moment, "is it true that humans can alter the results of a breathalyzer by putting a coin in their mouth?"

Genji considers for a second how many pages back Zenyatta could've gone in his split-second googling and sighs internally at the thought of having to cover the topic of 'humans and alcohol' at some point in the near future. Zenyatta had always focused his studies on philosophy, history and literature-- humanity's social habits, he often relied on Genji to explain. 

"That is a myth," Genji says after a moment. "Breath mints don't work either." 

The array on Zenyatta's forehead flickers, a clear indicator of his confusion. "Does coffee?"

"You may find more reliable results," answers Genji, voice dry, "searching 'myths about alcohol', master. It's like oil; the only way to get sober is time." He shifts his grip around Lúcio when the younger man laughs, and walks them both into Hana's room. 

Lúcio makes his way to the fold-out couch in her suite, collapsing on top of it. He throws an arm across his eyes, then rolls onto his back and stretches, arching off the cushions. It'll be a long moment before he settles, going still as the assignment catches up to him, the last of the day's obligations finally done. "I should head back," he murmurs, making no move at all to stand. He waits for Genji's approach, listening for the nearly-silent sound of his steps before sitting up.

Genji pulls him to his feet and walks him to the door, waiting on Lúcio to duck into their room across the corridor before he turns back. 

"Your suggestion did indeed turn up better results," Zenyatta tells him, both their eyes on Hana as she stumbles out of the bathroom and toward her bed, crawling under the covers. "Water, you said?"

"Water." Genji gestures with a tilt of his head toward the windows. "There is a convenience store nearby," he adds, turning to Zenyatta, "I will pick up something for when they are sober."

That nets him a familiar tilt of Zenyatta's head, bronze shoulders set in an affectionate slope. "You have experience with this," he observes, a small chuckle in his voice as Genji ducks his head and looks away.

"More than I like to admit," answers Genji. 

"It is good that you do," Zenyatta says firmly, "or we would not be able to care for our friends."

Genji's gaze flickers to Hana, bleary-eyed but awake, only the top of her tousled head visible from underneath her covers. Anyone else might be an intrusion but Genji finds that he doesn't mind her presence, or her hearing a conversation with Zenyatta that he would've otherwise kept private. Shame about his youth is less acute recently than it had been when he'd first left Overwatch, but the times he's not consumed by nostalgia are usually saturated with regret. 

He'd never told Zenyatta this, at least out loud, but the omnic has known him long enough, can read his moods well enough to make an educated guess. "You always," says Genji, "know what to say, master."

* * *

The lobby is almost empty when Genji steps out of the elevator, MEKA's pilots all retired for the night along with most of Overwatch. Fareeha seems to be on her way in, her strides long and sure. It's easy for Genji to pick out her soldier's swagger; even easier for him to see the flush of alcohol in her cheeks, the sway of her shoulders. He deliberately takes a route that stays in her line of sight to approach, and catches her by the elbow.

"Heading out?" she asks, eyes flickering toward the elevator. Genji has known her too long to assume that she'd need an escort back to her room, much less a babysitter. Still, the clear concern in his bearing is hard to miss and Fareeha makes a face at him, more annoyed sister than strike team co-member. 

They had always been on decent terms, though he was never quite as close to her as Jesse was to either of them; in recent months, Genji seems determined to change that. "I was going to the 7-Eleven," he answers, a smile in his voice. "Care to join me?"

Pharah laughs, turning on her heel and falling into step beside him. "You know I will." After a moment, she nudges him on the arm. "What are you getting?"

"Painkillers for Lúcio and Hana in the morning." He trots forward and shoulders the door open, catching it with his foot as he steps outside and Fareeha joins him. Finally remembering that she can't see his expression, Genji channels the sympathetic grimace on his face into a slight lift of his shoulders. "Maybe some snacks and drinks."

Abruptly swaying on her feet, Pharah leans hard against his side. "That sounds good." She slings her arm around him, laughing, and drops her head to his shoulder. Just a bit louder than necessary: "Maybe I'll get some for myself."

The careless, easy tone of her voice isn't lost on Genji and neither is the gesture, the hard squeeze of her fingers on his pauldron. Under his voice, he asks, "What's wrong?"

"I thought I saw something," Pharah murmurs, cupping her palm over his earpiece to whisper directly into his audio receptors, "so I doubled back earlier. Could you check it out with me? I'm a little drunk."

Even in Blackwatch, Genji'd never relied on this kind of discreet communication, the acting, and he privately relishes the opportunity to play at being an agent; he didn't have enough presence of mind to enjoy it the first time around. "Of course."

They take the block at a leisurely clip, bumping shoulders and jostling each other as they walk. Fareeha makes a show of looking straight ahead, while Genji flips through the hundreds of security cam feeds within a half-mile radius. It's taken up his entire HUD, and he relies on Fareeha's occasional nudges and tugs on his arm to keep him from wandering into the street or colliding with a street lamp.

They even chat while they walk, just to give the impression of two coworkers out on a stroll. Not that Genji doesn't have questions of his own-- questions such as: "You told Lúcio what I said?"

"I paraphrased!"

A heat signature on a nearby roof catches his attention, just significant enough to be unusual in Busan. Close enough to the hotel to have clear sightlines to the entrance, far enough away to be inconspicuous. It's well-camouflaged, an indistinct smudge that wouldn't even register on civilian softwares. Genji catches Fareeha by the elbow and slips an earpiece into her hand as he clears his HUD. "That building," he says, "two o'clock. Roof."

"Once we're inside the store," she tells him, "let's split up."

* * *

Fareeha lingers by the window, buying time for Genji to slip out the back of the store and loop around the block. He locates the place easily, eyes on its security cams as crawls through a second-story hallway window and wedges open a service door behind the building. He makes his way up along the outside, using windowpanes and verandas to scale the brick siding.

"I'm moving out," Fareeha announces as he reaches the roof, taking the same path Genji had. He acknowledges her message with a ping and creeps forward, finally catching sight of the anomaly the cameras had caught. 

It's a person, cloaked in dark blue to blend in with the night. They're hunkered down behind a low brick wall, a makeshift lean-to beside them to make a cozy sniper's perch. Genji draws his shortsword, inching forward as the stranger sets aside a rifle and reaches into their bag. 

The sniper extracts a pink thermos, settling back to unscrew its top. Genji takes the opening, closing the distance between them in one boosted dash as he fits a forearm against the back of the stranger's neck and sets the edge of his blade against their skin.

"If you turn," he says, "you die." The sniper doesn't react, but they comply with his threat. Rather than turning their head, they set down the thermos and raise both hands to show that they're empty. Genji doesn't back off, bending his wrist to tip their head up and get a glimpse of the mask, a blue triangle on the visor. "Who are you? Why are you watching us?"

"Genji?" The stranger chuckles as he falls completely still, reeling at the sound of her voice. 

He doesn't answer, still weighing his options as he regards the rifle beside them, taking in the now-familiar silhouette. After a moment, he reaches for the mask and she allows him to remove it, expression breaking into a cheery grin as it comes into view. "You seem well lately," Ana says as he sheathes his blade and she stands, "but it's nice to see you haven't lost your edge."

Genji stands at a polite distance, though he keeps his hand on the hilt of his shortsword. "What are you doing here, Captain Amari?"

She gives him a calculating look, then a sly smile as she replaces her mask and turns to collect her belongings. "You didn't take much convincing."

"Members of Overwatch returning from the dead are not a rare sight," Genji points out. "If it were, I might have reason to be more suspicious. Does Morrison know you're here?"

Ana concedes the point with a chuckle and a shake of her head. "He asked me for backup, actually. In case the assignment went wrong. Right now, I'm just making sure no one interrupts the celebrations." A pause, as she zips up her duffel bag and slings it over her shoulders. "Where's Fareeha?"

"Taking the stairs."

She turns to him. "I should go."

Genji steps in front of her, maintaining an almost apologetic distance when he says, "I can't let you do that."

Frowning, Ana grips the strap of her bag and adjusts the way it sits across her chest. She eyes Genji's stance, the wary set of his shoulders, and sighs. "She will not be happy to see me."

"I don't believe that," he answers, tone soft. "She isn't Hanzo, after all."

 _That_ finally gets a laugh. "Ever the gentleman," she says, setting down her bag and moving to sit on the low brick wall, "aren't you, Genji?"

He settles down next to her while she removes her mask and leaves it between them. Genji keeps his hands folded neatly in his lap, feet flat on the concrete. 

* * *

Pharah arrives not long after, briefly alerting Genji as she reaches the top floor. He only gives her the signal to come out onto the roof, and meets her at the door to brief her on the situation before she can be blindsided.

Genji waits for the initial surprise, Pharah's immediate interrogation of her mother, and then retreats to the other side of the roof. It's close enough to hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but far enough to lend them some degree of seclusion when they lower their voices. 

Still, Ana keeps her eyes trained on him for a few seconds longer, then calls lightly across to him, "You won't give us some privacy?"

"You seem to be the real Captain Amari," Genji answers, snapping off a cheeky salute, only the lights in his armor throwing the gesture into relief, "but we thought the same of Amélie LaCroix." The chances that she would have been taken by Talon between her disappearance and the present day are slim, but he'd learned not to take his chances. The inclination to trust others didn't come as easily as the paranoia, but his time with Zenyatta had taught him to blend the two.

"Well," Ana says, turning back to Fareeha, "I really don't need to worry about you with teammates like this."

Pharah gives Genji a look, challenging him to say more, before she regards Ana with a pained expression. "Mum," she begs, "please don't embarrass me in front of my coworker."

"Oh, habibi." Fighting back a laugh, Ana watches Genji turn his face away, clearly unwilling to be caught in the middle of a mother-daughter dispute. "He was my subordinate first."

* * *

Genji waits for both Amaris to approach him before he finally stands, idly rolling his shoulders as they draw closer. They're still talking, Fareeha keeping her tone resolutely _normal_. "You should stay with us," she tells Ana, "Overwatch and MEKA have booked out the entire hotel. Come back with us to Gibraltar!" 

"I'd heard Gibraltar was up and running," is the answer. They allows Genji to scout ahead into the stairwell, hesitating for only a moment until his lights flicker on to illuminate the steps. 

"It's..." Fareeha trails off, her expression in the darkness hinting at a grimace. "Well, not the most secure base of operations, but it works."

They descend at a steady pace until they reach a residential floor. Ana leads them to an elevator and they step inside, waiting for the doors to shut before she addresses Fareeha again. "I'm not sure I can."

"Do you know how happy Reinhardt and Torbjorn would be to see you?" Pharah's voice takes on a note of pleading, one that Genji's sure she'd hate for him to hear. "They talk about you all the time," she adds softly, "and they miss you." 

"I miss them too." Ana wrings the strap of her rifle, then turns a hard, determined look on her daughter. "But I don't want everyone to be in danger because of me."

Genji stares at the elevator buttons, privately wishing that he'd taken the stairs, but Fareeha stands her ground. "In more danger than Overwatch agents already are?" she asks. "We can protect each other." 

"Fareeha--"

The elevator pings, then stops. Its doors slide open with a soft hiss to reveal a frazzled-looking businessman, his cellphone at his ear, staring blankly into the carriage. His eyes land on Genji first, then move to Ana, the rifle still slung over her shoulder. Fareeha tilts her head back, expectant.

Genji drops a hand to his sword at his back, and all four of them wait for the doors to slide shut again. 

In the long, awkward silence that follows, Pharah shifts her weight between her feet, a stark difference from her usual straight-backed posture. "I couldn't help you the first time," she says, finally, as the elevator slows to a stop on the ground floor, "but now that I'm older, I can. I have the training. Please, I can't lose you again."

Ana finally capitulates, reaching for Fareeha's hand and clasping it between both of her own. "It was difficult enough to leave you the first time," she says. "I thought it would keep you safe, but you chose this life as well. Alright, habibi, I will go to Gibraltar."

"I just," Fareeha sighs as she lets herself be pulled into a hug, "wanted to be like you."

* * *

Genji unlatches his visor and removes his headgear as he enters Lúcio's room, setting both on the nightstand beside the bed. Lúcio stirs as he secures the deadbolt, pulling back the edge of blanket to greet Genji with a wide, sleepy grin. "Hey," he says, shuffling over to make room, "where'd you go?"

Genji takes a moment to stow the supplies he'd picked up after Pharah and Ana returned to the hotel. "I will tell you in the morning."

Lúcio nods and motions for him to come closer, too tired and drunk to press him for more information. "Welcome back, gatinho."

Finally approaching the bed, Genji ducks his head, coming within reach of the hand that Lúcio extends from under his blanket. He smiles, obligingly allowing himself to be pulled into a kiss before he slides under the covers. Genji laughs when Lúcio's cool palm presses against his cheek, thumb stroking across his nose, his lips. The hand retreats and Lúcio moves closer, tucking his head under Genji's chin as he settles in to sleep.

For his part, Genji smothers another chuckle. Softly, "What happened to tonight, Lúcio?" 

"Tired," Lúcio mumbles, and he looks up. "Let's save it for some other time," he says, eyes flashing green off the rapidly dimming lights of Genji's chest plate, "when I can _really_ do some work."

Then it's Lúcio's turn to laugh, the sound drowned out under the rapid hiss of Genji's vents.

* * *

MEKA's awards ceremony lasts nearly four hours in a massive indoor auditorium and features appearances ranging from the unit's former eSports teammates and coaches, to the President of Korea. The members of Overwatch who'd participated in the mission are in attendance, honored with a shiny plaque before the individual pilots of MEKA are individually called up and presented with Orders of Military Merit. 

Lúcio squirms through two and a half speeches (out of nearly a dozen) until Genji sends him the mission debrief, readable on his visor's HUD, and a short video of a cat aggressively slapping a stuffed animal. He manages to watch the video _and_ send Genji running commentary of his debrief review, all while keeping track of the ceremony's proceedings. 

Genji keeps his eyes on the entrances, rafters, windows and lights. It's no alternative to being able to scope out the backstage area, and in normal circumstances he'd prefer a vantage point on higher ground, but for once he's not part of an event's security detail. 

He taps into Lúcio's headset instead, following along as he scrolls:

The titan omnic's electronic signature emanates strongly off the piece of it they'd recovered, and had disappeared from the site of the battle once the CPU was removed from it. Winston and Mei had set to work immediately on decryption, the omnic itself locked in a secure facility-- one that blocks all signals in and out, to prevent it from accessing the internet. Zenyatta himself had made an appearance, shutting down all of his own networking protocols to attempt communication with the CPU to no avail, its language so corrupted as to be completely unintelligible.

Despite the lack of results, Winston had discovered a third-party presence, a packet of AI attempting to feed information back to another encrypted server, routed through too many dummies to properly trace. 

The report concludes that while Overwatch had hoped to gain more information on the titan omnic's origins and operations, any future threats, Korea should be safe from further attacks. The government had decided to keep MEKA in operation, training new pilots and allowing the original unit to retire from service and return to civilian life if they wished. 

Lúcio leans back in his seat as he reaches the end, exhaling loudly. He turns back to the stage, focusing on the speeches in earnest now, the translations streamed directly to the audience's devices. Neither he nor Genji speak for the remainder of the ceremony, both standing up to stretch their stiff muscles (synthetic and otherwise) as it draws to a close. 

Hana drifts toward her parents as MEKA disperses, handing her medal to her father to hold. They high-five each other with an exuberant 'EZ clap!' and then hug. Her mother hands her a bottle of water, a bag of chips to tide her over until dinner, and Hana walks them out of the auditorium, toward the parking lot.

The other members of Overwatch percolate through the crowd to gather at the edge of the amphitheater, well out of the way of the audience. Winston and Zenyatta excuse themselves, eager to investigate the titan omnic further. Zarya, Pharah, Tracer and Soldier split off in search of a pub in downtown Busan-- Lúcio seriously considers their invite but eventually declines.

They catch a taxi back to the hotel, and Lúcio immediately changes into a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, wraps his locs in preparation for the nap of a lifetime. He sighs in relief as he stows the blazer and trousers he'd bought specifically for the ceremony, and ducks into the bathroom to wash his face. "Lucky you're already naked," he jokes to Genji as he re-emerges, laughing as the cyborg practically tears off his visor. 

"Lucky for _you_ ," Genji retorts, following Lúcio to the bed and settling against the pillows. He watches Lúcio curl the blanket around his shoulders, then scoot to sit between Genji's knees, making himself comfortable against his chest. 

"Yeah," Lúcio murmurs, sighing contentedly as Genji pulls the top edge of the blanket between his temple and the metal chest plate, careful not to catch his locs in the seams of his armor. "Everyone else gets to see you too, though."

He can practically hear the smirk in Genji's voice as the cyborg's arms wrap securely over the blanket around him. "Jealous?"

"You're probably not their type," Lúcio shoots back, then scowls. "But that pisses me off, too."

"How so?"

"Everyone," he says, with great conviction, "should feel the way I do about you."

Genji buries his face against Lúcio's shoulder and groans. A full-body flush forces his vents open with alarming speed as his cybernetics scramble to adjust, practically whistling as they expel a short blast of hot air. Lúcio grins up at him, body shaking with barely-suppressed laughter. 

"You must still be drunk," Genji mumbles, acutely aware that Lúcio's made it a goal in life to fluster him at every opportunity, "to be saying things like that in the middle of the day."

* * *

Genji jerks awake to the sound of an insistent knock on their door, three short raps before a voice rings faintly through. Lúcio reacts first, gently extricating himself from Genji's arms as he slides out of bed and heads toward the entrance, flipping on the light as he approaches. "It's just Hana," he calls over his shoulder before Genji can ask, sharp ears easily able to pick out her voice.

"Oh," Hana says, catching sight of Lúcio's sleep-hazy expression, his tired lean against the door jamb. "Sorry, I just thought... um, is Zeny around?"

"He went with Winston." Lúcio yawns, pulling the door open all the way and beckoning her inside. "You can come chill with me and Genji instead, he should be back soon."

Squinting suspiciously into the room, Hana bounds after him, allowing the door to shut behind her. "I'm not gonna be interrupting anything," she asks, slowly kicking off her sneakers, "am I?"

By the time Lúcio looks back at Genji, he's already re-equipped his helmet and visor. "Nah," he reassures her, returning to the bed.

"Are you all right?" Genji asks. He stands to pull a seat out from under the desk, turning it to sit with his arms across its back. It's rare that Hana seeks out Zenyatta for advice-- less rare lately, the more opportunities they've had to talk, but at least she knows to look for Genji if she wants to find the monk himself.

Hana immediately takes the armchair, folding her knees toward her chest and wrapping her arms around. "I'm great!" She flashes a smile just to reiterate the point, but seems to carefully consider her next words. "Actually, I talked to my parents, and they want me to move to Seoul with them."

"Do you want to?" asks Lúcio, sitting cross-legged near the edge of the bed.

"It _would_ be kind of nice." Hana sighs, burying her face in her arms. "I'd never have to do laundry," she says, her voice muffled, "and my mom is a really good cook."

Genji and Lúcio say nothing, quietly waiting on her to continue. It takes a second, but Hana finally peeks over her elbow at Genji, eyes narrowed. 

"I don't know what I want to do," she says at last. "I mean, what's ever gonna be as cool as MEKA?"

Lúcio laughs softly at that, sympathetic, but Genji can hear the unspoken questions in it posed only to him: _What next? Is this my peak? What do I do, now that everything I've been working for is finally complete? Is that all my life will amount to? I'm only nineteen!_

"You could take up competitive eSports again," Genji suggests, but he knows it's not the answer she's looking for. Just this once, Lúcio isn't in a position to understand-- he'd saved Brazil and moved on to the world, each new venture more ambitious than the last. Genji had escaped one cage only to stumble into another, and by the time he'd finished with the second, there was nothing sweeter and more terrifying than the thought of freedom. 

"Probably," Hana concedes, "but after protecting the entire country, I can't even imagine that being the most important thing to me anymore. Everything's way higher stakes now."

"That's true."

"And the world is so much bigger than Korea." She looks around the room, the landscape of hotel amenities both familiar and distant after years of press tours and training exercises. "Now that I've seen a bit of it, I just feel trapped here. There's so many people who need help, but piloting a mech would be totally useless for so many of them."

Genji fixes her with a look, the steady glow of his visor trained on her face. "They are not your responsibility right now, Hana." He waits for her to glance at him, eyes wide, as if that was the first time she'd heard someone other than her parents (and they're biased) say that the weight of the world doesn't rest on her shoulders alone. "You are twenty years old; your only responsibility is to learn about yourself, and grow at your own pace. Take some time for the years that you could not."

"You talk like I didn't just help us _win_ a war we've been fighting for ages." Hana unfolds herself, stretching her legs out in front of her and her arms above her head. That gesture, brimming with her trademark confidence, makes her seem years older; the ensuing yawn does just the opposite. Hana's smile is brittle. "I've got a reputation now."

"And you deserve a chance to rest," Genji tells her. "Be at peace knowing you've done a service to the world. And when you are ready to take up another cause, Genji will be with you." 

She laughs, hesitant but real. "You think you're so cool." 

"Being cool is a very important aspect of my personality." Genji meets Lúcio's fond look with a quick one of his own before he turns back to Hana, adding softly, "You will always have a place with Overwatch, if that is what you eventually choose to do."

"I do want to spend some time with my family. It's been a while." 

"That's a good first step." 

"Thanks, sunbae." Hana hops to her feet, swinging her arms to loosen them. She'd planned to stay several more weeks in Korea, but Overwatch was never an organization that could be put on hold for the rest of the team. "I think I need a nap before you all head back to Gibraltar," she tells him, clearly intent on taking his advice.

"We'll wake you up to see everyone before the plane leaves," Lúcio reassures her, walking her to the door and happily accepting the hug she insists on before she ducks out. When she's back across the hall and out of earshot, he shuts the door and turns to Genji. "Gatinho," Lúcio comments, approaching the chair and stopping in front of it, "you give pretty good advice."

"What I said is true for you as well, Lúcio." Tilting his head up, Genji allows Lúcio to remove his visor, gently dismantle his headgear and set it aside. "Take your time," he adds, eyes sliding shut as Lúcio leans in for a kiss.

" _You_ don't rest," Lúcio gripes as he pulls away, prompting Genji to stand and push his chair back under the desk. "You hop straight from one assignment to another."

"Accompanying my master to Nepal is a vacation for me," he says. "I get to hike and meditate all day, and every morning we do exercises on the mountainside as the sun rises."

"Sneaky ninja," Lúcio retorts, "you always file it as a mission."

"Tax deductible. I learned that from my brother." 

That makes Lúcio laugh, then shake his head. "I always forget you two know how to pull that off."

"If you would like to accompany us next time, you are welcome to, Lúcio."

"Nepal's not really my scene," he answers, "but I'll go with you one of these days." Lúcio watches Genji accept that with a nod, a small quirk of his lips, and he adds, "Let's take a vacation before things get busy again."

Genji's shoulders perk, a habit he doesn't lose even with his visor removed. The bonus of seeing his face when he does it, the curious interest on it, is reserved only for those closest to him. "Any place in mind?"

"I've wanted to swing by Rio for a bit, but we can't stay there long." Lúcio swipes up his phone and begins to tab through his contacts. "Two, three days, maybe. Got a friend in Costa Rica I keep promising I'd do a collab with, but never got around to. Manny Ortero?"

"That sounds like fun," says Genji as he leans against the desk. "It also sounds like work." 

That gives Lúcio pause, and he grimaces as he mulls it over. "Aw," he says after a beat as he backs up to sit on the bed, "you got me. Not gonna have that much time to vacation with you if I'm in the studio the whole time, huh?"

"If making music counts as rest for you, I am satisfied with that." 

"Well, Manny's producing it. He's gonna do all the actual work."

"Let's do it." Genji smiles, running his fingers through his hair to sweep his fringe back from his forehead. "I would like to see your hometown; after all, you've already seen mine."

Lúcio takes a long moment to consider it, but he seems decided by the time he finally addresses Genji again. "I don't want you to be bored," he says, heel tapping on the carpeted floor.

"I will find things to occupy my time," Genji answers, quick and easy.

"Then let's check the calendar." Lúcio springs to his feet, slipping his phone into his pocket. "I think we've both got some free time coming up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, this chapter's been on hold for nearly a year, but i'd always intended to continue it!! sorry to everyone who's been waiting (':


	3. Chapter 3

After nonchalantly boarding Tracer's Orca back to Gibraltar as if she hadn't been faking her death for the past few years, Ana kicks back at the table next to Lúcio. The breezy confidence of an ex-UN captain, sniper and-- more importantly-- Egyptian mother out in full force sets Lúcio at ease and they talk comfortably as the airship lifts off. Genji joins them soon after the ship reaches cruising altitude, and Winston approaches the table while Lena cheekily toggles the seatbelt lights.

Ana seems to settle right back into the groove of being an Overwatch operative. She asks pointed questions, more to confirm her own observations than to glean any new information, and steers clear of sensitive, classified data Winston would be hesitant to share before confirming her identity. She slyly mentions operations she'd commanded with Genji, Winston and Lena on the team, and _relentlessly_ teases Morrison every time he attempts to cut into the conversation.

Fareeha, in the co-pilot's seat with Lena, occasionally chimes in but otherwise keeps her focus on the controls, this particular ship still unfamiliar to her.

"What I'm getting here," Winston says as the team's initial excitement winds down, "is that Genji's recruit count is up to five?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Genji frowns at the looks turned his way, the crooked smiles on the others' faces. All the years he'd spent trying to escape Overwatch, and now he's bringing in new and old members alike. "Technically," the cyborg demurs, "Captain Amari is here because of Fareeha and Morrison."

Ana reaches across Lúcio to pat Genji's elbow. "You can have partial credit for that one."

In the company of old friends, Genji's usual reserve falls away and the baleful droop of his shoulders is more than enough of an indicator as to his expression. He seems to look around in search of Zenyatta's support before he finally remembers that he had decided to stay in Busan, to keep trying to communicate with the omnic they'd captured. Resigned, "Can Hana count as Lúcio's?"

If Ana wasn't aware before of their relationship before (unlikely, considering how long she'd had the team under surveillance), Lúcio leaves no room for doubt with the affectionate tug on Genji's ribbon. "That's all you, querido."

Genji catches Ana's eye, the mischievous twinkle in it, and sighs.

* * *

Back in their room, near midnight, Lúcio flings swim trunks, sunscreen, and about a week’s worth of clothes into an old suitcase while Genji removes his headgear. "I can't wait to hang with Manny again,” he says, picking up a rashguard and lobbing it after the rest of his clothing, “haven't seen him in ages."

Genji moves for the bed once his helmet comes off, reflexively folding and rolling Lúcio’s clothes as they land in front of him, fitting them neatly into the suitcase arranged by type and color. An old habit formed watching servants pack his luggage for him before trips as a child. "I thought,” he says, sounding amused, “you said that he just 'roasts you all the time'."

Lúcio packs his electronics last, the skates, amplifier and headset in their own nondescript case and his laptop in a carry-on-sized backpack. "The underground scene never lets your head get too big,” he agrees. Wandering back to the bed, Lúcio sits heavily to help with the folding. “We keep each other in check.”

Shaking out a faded sleeveless tee in the design and colors of the Brazilian flag, Genji flashes him a cheeky grin. "The Lena to your Genji?"

Lúcio considers the analogy for a second, then laughs, nodding. "You know it,” he says, but it doesn’t take long at all for his expression to become serious and withdrawn. Genji and Lena don't talk often about their time in Overwatch together, but from what Lúcio's managed to pick up, it hadn't always been the playful, teasing camaraderie they have now. “Being famous," he says slowly, "has been something else."

"How so?" asks Genji, stuffing the last pair of cargo shorts into the suitcase and zipping it shut.

Watching Genji check and double-check the luggage, Lúcio sighs. "People build up this image of you in their heads." He waits for Genji to look up before continuing, "And when you turn out to not be that guy, they all wanna change you."

That gets a wry smile, as Lúcio had known it would. "Many are like that," Genji agrees. He lifts the whole package off the mattress and slides it under the bed, in preparation for when they finalize their vacation days. 

"Kinda why you made such an impression," says Lúcio, scooting closer into the newly-vacated space and bumping Genji lightly with his elbow. 

Genji nudges him back, finally wrapping an arm firmly around his shoulders when Lúcio seems determined to begin a war of elbow-checking attrition. “Me?”

Lúcio surrenders happily, leaning into Genji's side. “You just take people for who they are," he says, "and it doesn’t shake you what anyone else thinks of you." Lúcio sags against him, a sleepy weight as he mumbles through a yawn: "You’re my rock, Genji.” 

So close, Genji knows Lúcio can hear the soft, tell-tale hiss of his traitorous vents. He's long given up on being embarrassed by it. “I,” he answers, "should be saying that to you."

* * *

A massive sheaf of papers slams to the table in front of Genji at breakfast, Hanzo's hand laid across the top, his knuckles curved up over a pen. "You," the elder Shimada says, "need to sign these."

"Brother," Genji says, meeting Lúcio's eyes for a split second before he looks warily back at Hanzo, "sign what?"

They're the only three agents in the canteen, which Lúcio is sure Genji appreciates, but for his own part Zenyatta's calming presence would certainly have been welcome.

Genji seems to entirely tune out Hanzo's subsequent explanation-- a primer on Shimada Group holdings, something about a Swiss bank account, their combined trust funds and company shares, a majority of which Hanzo now owns. The establishment of the Shimada Foundation, a charitable group targeted toward helping displaced and orphaned children. His head lists to the side, a gesture so familiar to Lúcio that he can practically see Genji's mouth slightly open, eyes glazed. Hanzo must also recognize it, because he sighs and gestures again at the contract. "Just sign the papers, Genji. You are the co-director."

"I'm a what?" Genji asks again, regarding the document.

"You said you would help with a nonprofit charitable foundation," Hanzo says, patience wearing thin. 

"I said I might be willing to help," Genji corrects, "and I meant sometime in the future. Not overnight."

Lip curling, Hanzo regards his brother with an incredulous look. "You're going to procrastinate on _charity work_?"

Lúcio doesn't move a muscle, eyes darting between the brothers as they face off, hoping to hear the end of this conversation before Hanzo properly registers that they have a spectator. 

"You do know," Genji answers slowly, "that I have no idea what any of this involves? I've never had to run a foundation."

"I know," Hanzo snorts. He glances at Lúcio, seems to consciously suppress the impulse to switch to Japanese, and looks back to Genji. "I was the one who had to handle the paperwork after our father died."

The jab at some old point of conflict doesn't go unnoticed, and Lúcio fights back the urge to interfere. Genji had asked him to stay out of their issues once before and he has no intention of going back on his word but Lúcio's fists clench under the table, eyes narrowing. He snaps out of it when cybernetic fingers brush his elbow, the touch so light that he almost doesn't notice. It stands in stark contrast to the edge in Genji's voice, his sneering, "Maybe I could have learned more if I wasn't being turned into a cyborg."

Hanzo inhales sharply, an audible hiss through his teeth as his shoulders pull back. Genji stays unnaturally still, visor turned to his brother's face.

"I should not have said that," Hanzo says after a beat, reaching for his documents. "It was too soon to ask. You're right."

Lúcio idly considers that no one else in the world could get away with speaking to Hanzo like that, much less receive an apology in return. 

"I only meant," Genji interrupts, catching Hanzo's wrist, "that I don't know how much I will be able to help. You might be better off finding someone with experience in these matters." 

Despite their father's best efforts at teaching him accounting and management, Genji had only ever been interested in ninja training and, when he deigned to actually do his schoolwork, only ever seemed to enjoy the literature and language courses. The only time he ever paid attention to statistics was when it involved catching a shiny Pokemon, or analyzing the patterns of his opponent at the arcade. _You can impress girls with Shakespeare and Tekken high scores,_ he'd tell their father, _but they don't want to talk about finance unless they're thinking about marriage._

 _He has a point_ , Father would say, fighting back laughter both at Genji's observation and Hanzo's disbelief at his indulgence. 

"Half the funds were from your trust," Hanzo sighs. "You should have a say in how they are used."

"I wouldn't even know where to start." Letting go of his wrist, Genji picks up the contract and scans it, the nearly solid block of official-looking text rife with enough kanji to make his head spin. "I will help where I can," he murmurs, "but I'll leave the final decisions to you."

Hanzo gives him a long, considering look. "You'll do it, then?"

Genji takes the pen, signs his name on the line under Hanzo's seal and neatly fills in the date. "I'm with you."

* * *

Genji finds Hanzo on the satellite array that night, lounging in his favorite spot, his gourd flask unstoppered beside him. Half the sky is overcast, gray clouds lit by a full moon, stars visible in the gaps. The cyborg drops a folder in front of him and sits, waiting for Hanzo to pick up the sheaf of papers and skim through them, squinting to read by the light from a beacon from a nearby dish. 

Hanzo balefully regards a picture of himself, the horns and fangs scrawled on his face in red marker. Genji seems to have specifically printed out this particular file to vandalize it, opting for humor over the practicality of a tablet. 「What's this?」 he asks.

「Your dossier.」 That should already be obvious, given Hanzo's refined document-reading ability. 「I wanted to update it, now that you're properly a part of the team.」

Making a thoughtful sound, Hanzo flips over the last page to check for text on its back and closes the folder with a practiced gesture. 「This,」 he observes, 「is missing a lot of information that I know you were aware of. Are you looking for my input on something?」

「When I was working with Overwatch,」 Genji says, almost jokingly, 「I left out some key details in case they tracked you down before I could. That won't be necessary anymore.」

That would explain how despite all the other surveillance on Shimada property by Overwatch, they'd never figured out that he'd return on the anniversary of Genji's "death", nor ever tried to apprehend him on those days. Despite other assassination attempts and all the other notes on his more subtle movements, there was one significant hole that never made it to file. 「Oh?」

「I was still trying to decide whether or not to kill you,」 Genji tells him, breathtakingly blunt, 「but I knew I'd lose my chance if Overwatch found you first. I may have doctored my reports before submitting them.」

As a testament to their upbringing, Hanzo takes that perfectly in stride. 「If you had used that intelligence for the family,」 he says, 「we would not be here right now.」

「We might still be ruling Hanamura,」 Genji agrees.

「You would be miserable.」 Hanzo flips the file open again, indicating a short passage on the events leading up to his and Genji's fight, excerpts of the family elders' conversations about the younger Shimada and Hanzo's attempts to divert their attention away. He extends the folder so Genji can read it, to refresh his memory. 「How long has this entry been here?」 he asks. 

Genji stares at the file, inhaling deeply before he removes his visor, setting it aside to at least reveal his eyes above the filter over his nose and mouth. 「Three years ago,」 he says, catching and holding Hanzo's gaze. 「When I finally thought to check.」

「So you know that it was the board.」

「But you let me believe that it was your decision,」 Genji challenges, more tired than anything, 「and your decision alone.」

「I thought that if you knew it was our family that had turned against you, it would've been worse.」 Hearing himself say it out loud, even Hanzo can't argue that it makes sense, as if it was some act of kindness to let Genji think in his last hours that it was his brother who'd decided on his execution. 「It would have been for me.」

Genji laughs, shaking his head. For all the time they spent together and for all the time they've spent apart, Hanzo still thinks that the Shimada Group meant as much to Genji as it did to himself, that Genji had ever given the elders a single thought, or fallen in line for their sake rather than out of love for their father or Hanzo himself. 「Stupid brother,」 he says, no bite in his voice-- just a deep, aching sadness. 「The only opinion I ever cared about was yours.」

Then it's Hanzo's turn to laugh, throwing in an incredulous quirk of his brows for good measure. 「I never once got that impression.」

Ignoring the comment, Genji picks up the flask. He mimes sniffing its contents and then upends it, shaking a few drops out of the empty container. 「You're drunk,」 he says. 

「I've never been more sober in my life.」 

「Liar,」 Genji promptly retorts.

Hanzo elbows him on the shoulder, taking back his flask and stoppering it before he returns it to its place at his hip. 「Yet you always believe me.」

Genji doesn't dispute that, but he removes the filter over his face, then the rest of his headgear. He flashes Hanzo a wry smile, brushing his dark fringe back from his forehead. 「Do you remember Uncle Isamu? 」

「He died before you were born,」 Hanzo says, watching him intently and too intoxicated to hide it. 「Father's younger brother.」

「Father told me before he passed that he didn't realize how pitiful little brothers were until I was born.」 Genji snorts, accompanying the sound with a subtle, impudent roll of his eyes. 「He said that when I was a baby,」 he continues, sounding almost embarrassed, 「I could be doing anything-- sleeping, being fed, being changed-- but the moment I heard your voice, the only thing I wanted was to play with you. Nothing could deter me.」

A memory bubbles to the surface of Hanzo's mind, entirely unbidden, of when they were children, of when he actually enjoyed the pure, wide-eyed adoration instead of feeling stifled by it. 「I remember.」

「And he said that he knew when we grew older, that you would want nothing to do with me.」 Genji gives him a knowing look, very little of the confidence he'd had as a younger man in his expression, but a clear, quiet wisdom instead. 「That you would think I was annoying, and burdensome, because he had thought the same of his brother. He never forgave himself for our uncle's death, so he doted on me.」

「I hated that.」

「I know.」 A grin. Forgiven, practically forgotten. All of the small, human transgressions between siblings must seem so insignificant next to attempted fratricide. 「Even so, as long as I had my big brother, I didn't need anything or anyone else.」

Hanzo looks away, eyes on the blurry reflection of the moon in the bay of Gibraltar. 「When did it change?」

Genji props an elbow on Hanzo's shoulder, sticks his face close. 「Do you remember when you seriously picked up archery?」

「I thought I had finally found something you'd have no interest in,」 Hanzo sighs, leaning away. At least this annoyance is familiar, endearing in its harmlessness. 「It would be something of my own, finally.」

「And I asked if I could join your lessons,」 Genji continues, teasing, 「and you got angry at me, because you had a crush on the instructor and we both know I'm the handsome brother.」

「That was _not_ the reason.」

「I think that's when I realized.」

「And,」 Hanzo says, 「you became a delinquent.」

He gets a mischievous grin in return, Genji's eyes flashing red in the dim lighting. 「Among other things,」 he quips. Then, more seriously, 「I thought that if I bothered you less, you might want to spend more time with me.」

「You,」 Hanzo tells him, 「weren't the problem.」

「Really?」

「I hated that I had to learn the business, but Father let you do whatever you wanted. You could have a life outside the family.」

Genji takes his arm off Hanzo's shoulder, both hands settling on his own ankles as he rocks backwards. A jarringly organic movement, so different from the controlled precision of his usual bearing. 「You got to go to Hawaii with him every time, though.」 His voice takes on a wistful inflection, the edge of complaint making him sound years younger. 「I was dying of jealousy, stuck in school.」 

「I was suffocating. Couldn't wait for the day I would take over, but it was the same after.」

Genji leans forward. 「I don't think he ever had any expectations of me.」

「Would you have preferred it if it was the other way around?」

He makes a face. 「I don't know.」

Hanzo laughs, shaking his head. 「Me neither.」

「You,」 says Genji, letting his head drop against Hanzo's shoulder, 「are exhausting.」

Hanzo allows it for a few seconds, then pointedly shrugs him off. 「I don't,」 he retorts, 「want to hear that from you.」

* * *

Lúcio pores over Hanzo's foundation proposal on his and Genji's business-class flight to Costa Rica, marking up the sheets of paper with an expert, appraising pen while Genji enters the changes into a digital document through his visor. Genji waits for a break in the editing, for Lúcio to take a sip of his long-ignored ginger ale to ask, "Where did you learn all this?" There's a note of worry in that question as he shuffles the papers back into order, in the impressed, "Where do you find the time between everything else?"

That gets him an affectionate, wry smile. Lúcio spins his pen over his thumb, catches it in one smooth motion and taps it back-end down against the fold-out tray in front of him. "Been working on one of my own," he says. "Remember?"

"You could hire someone to do this part for you," Genji points out, removing his visor. The air in the cabin isn't too different from the filtered, recirculated air inside his headgear, and his cyberized immune system should take care of any potential disease. Genji pulls up the hood of his oversized black sweatshirt next, tugging briefly on the drawstrings to properly obscure his face from any other passengers or flight attendants. "The only reason my brother is not," he continues, "is because he's using embezzled funds."

Lúcio gives him a sidelong look, torn between exasperation and admiration. He's the last person to complain about reappropriating money from a yakuza group to fund charity work, but the blithely practical way Genji'd put it still comes as a surprise. "I like to know how things work," is his answer-- the simple truth. 

"You pick it up much more quickly than I do."

"Well," Lúcio says, laughing, "I'm still young."

He recoils from the finger Genji pokes into his ribs, jolting the tray in front of him. Genji catches his cup before it can spill, the papers before they go flying, then sets them neatly back once they've both settled again, their shoulders brushing. 

"You deserved that," Genji murmurs, catching Lúcio's hand before it can smack into his shoulder and giving it a gentle, apologetic squeeze.

"You're lucky you've got those reflexes," Lúcio shoots back, grinning wide and pointedly ignoring a curious look from the lone passenger sharing their row. Genji ducks his head, the hem of his hood dropping down over his eyes as he leans in close.

He pitches his voice soft and low. "For more than that," he murmurs, releasing Lúcio's hand and pressing a discreet kiss to his cheek instead. 

Lúcio can feel his face heat up, struck momentarily speechless at Genji's uncharacteristic boldness. "Seriously, man?" he asks, picking up Genji's visor and fidgeting with it. _He's_ usually doing the flustering, but the cyborg takes his shots when he can. "Right here?"

Genji smiles, letting his cheek drop against Lúcio's temple. "How the turn tables," he says, infuriatingly smug while Lúcio sputters at the awful joke.

"McCree taught you that one," Lúcio accuses, looking up at him with narrowed eyes, "didn't he."

"Hanzo did." Genji mulls that over, then sits upright. For all intents and purposes, he looks like a good friend, or part of Lúcio's security detail; he's said more than once that he'd like to keep it that way, the idea of public scrutiny absolutely terrifying to him. Ninja skills used to obfuscate a very public display of affection isn't what he'd been trained for, but he and Lúcio have both always used whatever tools were at their disposal. "He may have picked it up from Jesse," Genji adds with a small nod. "My brother's sense of humor... needs work."

"Weird," Lúcio says, tapping the back of his hand, "that's what D.Va said about you."

"Hana does not understand what's funny. She will learn."

* * *

Genji allows him exactly four days in the studio before politely (but firmly) dragging Lúcio out, with Manny's blessing. The DJ's easygoing exterior obfuscates the obsessive, exacting professional underneath-- it had, after all, taken him two years to release his debut album despite millions of fans clamoring for it. Genji intercepts him on the way out of their hotel room that morning and whisks him into a rented sedan, with a promise to only occupy him for _one_ day, to give his friend a break. Having spent the better part of the last week bent over a mixer, Lúcio agrees reluctantly-- and falls asleep not ten minutes into their drive despite having just woken up.

He stirs when Genji pulls onto the side of the road nearly two hours later. "Short hike," Genji tells him, stepping out of the vehicle and slinging a pack over his shoulder. 

"I really needed that nap," says Lúcio, rolling his shoulders.

"I thought you might."

Lúcio eyes a well-worn, narrow path between two trees. "Race you."

Not very long after, picking his way down a steep dirt slope, Lúcio grimaces at the sleek shape bounding down ahead of him and out of sight. Genji makes his surefooted way toward the sound of rushing water; he's heavier with the backpack, black bandana neatly bound to keep it from snagging on twigs. Once in a while he jumps, hand snagging on a low branch to swing himself forward.

Lúcio, conversely, nearly slips on a rock and makes a frustrated noise as he catches himself on the trunk of a sapling. His skates wouldn't be able to handle this terrain anyway, and his prosthetics weren't exactly built for rainforests-- more suited to navigating narrow paved roads and concrete steps, sprinting across rusting corrugated metal rooftops. He struggles for a few seconds more on a particularly loose patch of dirt before Genji drops out of the tree next to him and takes his arm.

"Yo," he says.

"Hey," Lúcio answers, not even questioning how he made his way back up without Lúcio noticing, and they clamber down together. 

The ground grows wetter as it flattens, dirt and fallen leaves squishing under their feet. Between the trees Lúcio can make out a cloudy curtain of water, spilling into a massive basin. Dark peat gives way to white sand, two of them stopping on the edge of the water as waves lap at the tips of their feet. Lúcio whistles, eyes scanning the outcroppings of rock ringing the pool, trees with droopy, willowy branches hanging low enough to skim the basin's surface.

Genji removes his visor once he's confirmed that the space is empty, swinging his backpack off his shoulder and dropping it to the sand. "We never did have a chance to go swimming," he says with a grin.

"I've never seen anything like this, gatinho."

"Aren't there places like this all over Brazil?" Dropping into a crouch to test the water's temperature, Genji nods to himself and shuffles forward until his shins are submerged. "I thought it might not be very much," he says, turning his head to look up at Lúcio, "compared to what you know."

That nets him an exasperated look, Lúcio's mouth quirked in an affectionate smile. Some days Genji seems to read his mind, both of them attuned to potential danger and each other's presence. Other days he forgets that most people didn't have his kind of childhood-- groomed for violence, but indulged and spoiled in every conceivable way. "I mean," Lúcio clarifies, unclipping his locs and shaking them out, "there's beaches, but day trips into Amazônia weren't really something most of us could just afford to do."

Genji takes it in stride, answering with a soft, "I see."

"And," says Lúcio, shrugging out of his shirt and flinging it over his shoulder onto the sand, "you can't reach most of them anymore anyway."

"The Crisis?"

"Assholes with money." Lúcio steps forward, submerging his prosthetic legs to the shins before splashing forward again. He's up to his waist before he turns around, then falls back, arms outstretched, into the water. The tips of his feet break the surface as he floats on his back into the shade of an overhanging tree. "Hey," he calls to Genji, "get over here!"

Genji shuffles his feet in the shallow water. "Should I?"

Lúcio sits up, dragging a hand down his face to clear water out of his eyes. "You still haven't read your manual?"

"I prefer trial and error."

Tossing his head to fling his soaking locs out of his face and over his shoulder, Lúcio grins. "Up to thirty meters, gatinho."

"Well," says Genji, the boosters in his back and legs popping open, "in that case."


	4. Chapter 4

Lúcio jerks the steering wheel left, swearing under his breath as he brings the rented pickup back into the center of the lane. Genji braces one hand on the roof of the cab, reaching tentatively for Lúcio's shoulder with the other as the younger man leans forward, almost hunched over his dashboard. "Seriously," he gripes, "no autopilot? We're back in the stone ages or something?" 

"You can't be recorded entering Brazil," Genji reminds him. 

Lúcio had insisted on taking the wheel two hours after Panama, having been the one to suggest a roadtrip in the first place. 'Driving' usually entails setting an autopilot and taking over when alerted to by the vehicle's simple AI, but Genji had disabled that function early on, a trick he'd learned from Reyes in Blackwatch to make just about any car untraceable. 

That comes in handy for smuggling a fugitive back into Brazil, but if Lúcio were being honest he'd almost certainly be received with fanfare if he'd decided to publicly return, with only the lightest of smacks on the wrist. He's too famous, too beloved by the public to face actual consequences for dislodging Vishkar from Brazil, despite their clout with local politicians. 

But manual driving takes more focus than Lúcio remembers, having never actually tried a longer haul as Genji must have, and the mosquitoes in Central America are no joke. 

"Do you want me to drive?" Genji asks, a harmless enough question that still sets Lúcio's nerves on edge, his jaw clenching.

He laughs it off, scritching a bite on his shoulder. 

"Nah, I got it. It's just been a while since I--hey!" Someone cuts in front of them, horn blaring as they accelerate into the distance. In this area, manual driving seems to be the norm rather than the exception, but that fact doesn't do anything to alleviate Lúcio's sour mood. "Who's that guy think he is?" he snarls.

"Lúcio, I can--"

"I said," Lúcio interrupts, "I got it."

"We didn't use autopilot in Blackwatch. It's not so tiring for me."

"Genji, seriously."

Genji falls silent, busying himself with something that doesn't involve gently critiquing Lúcio's driving skills. He pats himself down, checking compartments in his armor before extracting something from one and removing his visor. 

Lúcio stares straight ahead, his eyes on the road. Part of him already regrets snapping at Genji, who'd only been trying to help. Still, when Genji says his name again, he has to bite back a retort, opting to acknowledge him with the most noncommittal of sounds. Undeterred, Genji motions for his hand, and once extended, slaps an unpackaged protein bar into it.

"Oh," says Lúcio. 

He takes a brief inventory and comes to the conclusion that he is, indeed, starving.

"You didn't have breakfast," Genji offers. 

Lúcio takes a quick bite, chewing to mask the sheepish tone of his voice. "I should've figured," he mumbles, apologetic.

"It's all right," Genji answers with an affectionate grin stretching from ear to ear. Lúcio's rare lapses in good cheer are reserved almost exclusively for those closest to him; for everyone else, he takes pains to be an unending source of PMA (as Hana calls it). Genji huffs, simultaneously humbled and elated at the trust placed in him, as he often is around Lúcio. He adds, for good measure: "You are cute when you're hangry."

Unable to _stay_ upset with the full force of Genji's most amused, contented expression directed at him, Lúcio shakes his head and leans back in his seat, stretching his aching shoulders. "I could really go for some chifrijos right now." 

They're about two countries away from that particular dish, and Genji re-equips his visor to check the GPS. "That won't be easy to find, even in Bogotá."

"Let's stop for lunch at the next town," Lúcio suggests, canting his head to indicate a tiny settlement ahead, not much more than a little roadside restaurant, a simple grocery store and a few houses with thin, corrugated roofs. "My Spanish is a little rusty," he says, "but we can't go wrong with arepas in Colombia."

"You speak a lot of Spanish?"

"Honestly, sometimes I'll just speak Portuguese and we can have a whole conversation like that." Lúcio pulls over slowly, grateful at least for the lack of tires when he glimpses the uneven ground. "Wait till you hear some Portunhol," he says, "that'll really make your head explode."

Nodding, Genji opens his door and hops out. "Jesse did that in Italy, with Spanish. Maybe he can try it in Portugal."

Having had a single granola bar, Lúcio already feels his mood lifting, helped along by the thought of McCree speaking rapid-fire Spanish to confused Italians, who nonetheless understand him. "I've been to Portugal," he says, tugging briefly at the legs of his jeans to unstick them from his sweaty legs. "Those guys talk funny."

* * *

They stop for the night an hour into Venezuela, driving nearly a whole kilometer off-road to find a spot in the Amazonian rainforest clear enough of trees to accommodate a campsite. Lúcio fiddles briefly with a cloaking device and plants it in the flat bed of the pickup, laying out sleeping pads and pillows while Genji unequips his headgear and reheats a container of sancocho they'd picked up along the way. 

"I heard this thing keeps out mosquitoes," Lúcio says, making light conversation while he portions himself a serving of soup, spooning it over a plate of lukewarm rice. He indicates the cloaking device wedged between two mats with a tilt of his head and a cheeky grin. "Gift from a friend."

Genji looks at him, then at the device, an expression of mild distaste forming on his face. "Sombra?" he sighs.

Stuffing a chunk of yucca into his mouth, Lúcio stalls, considering his words before finally saying, "She heard we were driving through to Brazil and sent it over."

"She heard the locations of two Overwatch operatives," Genji says, sounding unhappy, "that she could leak to Talon at _any time_?"

Lúcio shrugs. "She hacked us." He takes a cautious sip of his soup. "Well, hacked your messages."

"Why would she hack _me_?"

"'Cause 'peanutbutter1' isn't a better passcode than 'peanutbutter', gatinho." 

Lúcio busies himself with the last of the sancocho, flashing Genji a pointed, but understanding, look. If she were going to leak their plans to Talon, Sombra could easily have done so already. Genji's laxness with his passcode has nearly everything to do with Athena's security being almost impenetrable; one extra step to decode a decent password would barely have slowed her down if she can get past Athena's encryption.

"Fine," Genji answers, clearly abashed but unable to dispute the point, "tell her I said thanks, for protecting you from the mosquitoes."

Lúcio leans into his side, nudging him in the ribs. "Already did."

He sets aside his empty bowl and used spoon just as Genji shifts, scooting over to sit with his chest to Lúcio's back and his legs on either side of him. They recline together, Lúcio comfortable in the nest of Genji's limbs and Genji slightly less so, only his armor to cushion his back against the cab of the pickup. "How do you feel?" asks Genji, softly, arms curling around Lúcio's ribs and his lips pressing a soft kiss to a sensitive spot behind his ear.

"Pretty good," Lúcio mutters back, laughing when Genji nuzzles at his jaw, his hands wandering down his sides. "How 'bout you? Are you tired? I know I could use a shower."

"We can stop at a safehouse in Caracas." Catching Lúcio's hand, Genji pulls it up, plants a kiss on his knuckles. "Endure until then."

Lúcio closes his eyes and sinks backwards, slipping lower as Genji feels his way across his shoulders, his chest, down his arms. He turns his head and catches familiar, rough lips in his own. 

It's been nearly a year since they first met in Numbani. No matter how familiar this becomes, how many times they've done this, Genji's touch remains slow, exploratory, as if discovering Lúcio's body for the first time all over again, relishing every feverish inch of it, every sound he can elicit, every shift, every gasp. 

"I know we're cloaked," Lúcio says after a while, breathing hard, his voice tight as Genji's mouth works its way down his neck, hands idly kneading his thighs, rubbing the day's stiffness out of them, "but you think we're soundproofed, too?"

Genji's hands slide higher, one slipping under the hem of his shirt, and the other to touch him lightly through his jeans. His teeth close briefly on the lobe of Lúcio's ear. "Why don't we find out?"

* * *

"I forgot," Lúcio sighs, later, "no one can hear us anyway. We're in the middle of nowhere." He stretches, arching his spine and grinning as a brief gust of air sweeps past the small of his back, wicking away heat and sweat. Genji leans away to give him room, propped on one elbow as Lúcio settles back onto the padded mat. 

"Lucky for you," Genji whispers back, still breathless, trying to keep a laugh out of his voice, "because you _definitely_ would have gotten us caught."

Lúcio groans, rolling over to present Genji with his back. Then he looks over his shoulder and turns again, curls a hand behind Genji's head and drags him down. "That's on you," he grumbles, pulling him into a rough, playful kiss, "you show-off."

"I couldn't resist." Pressing his forehead to Lúcio's, Genji's eyes flash a brilliant green, not quite enough to illuminate the smiles on both their faces. "You seemed to like it," he drawls, a flash of the cocksure playboy he was as a younger man evident in his expression giving way very quickly to a preoccupied, focused look as he pulls away. 

"It's been _weeks_ ," Lúcio says, watching Genji fish a small towel out of his duffel bag and lob it to him. He suppresses the small, wistful pang in his chest at the reminder of who Genji had been; who he might still be if it hadn't been for Hanzo, and cleans himself off. No point wondering. Lúcio can't think of a single thing he'd honestly try to change about Genji, but given the opportunity to prevent the hardships he'd survived, he imagines that he'd jump at the chance.

"No privacy at all," Genji agrees, packing away the utensils Lúcio had used for dinner and tossing him a set of clean clothes. He watches Lúcio change, a tired smile on his face. 

"Felt like years," Lúcio grumbles, having wildly underestimated how much their most recent mission would exhaust him. It'd taken him a week to return to normal energy levels and another to have enough time to spend it with Genji. "I kept making plans and falling asleep before following through." 

"It's over," Genji says, with finality. "Vacation time." 

"Least we've got the most comfortable back of a pickup truck this side of Mexico." Changed, sleepy and sated, Lúcio yawns. He catches the wrap Genji tosses him next and sweeps his locs into it, tying it neatly at the nape of his neck. "Honestly," he says, motioning for Genji to join him as he makes a nest in the light blankets he'd laid out, "I wanted to roadtrip just 'cause otherwise I don't think there's any way we'd get to be alone." 

Genji sits, patiently allowing him to rearrange the bedding. "Lúcio," he says as the younger man sets a pillow in his lap and rests his head gingerly on it, "let me drive the rest of the way."

Lúcio immediately moves to sit up but he's stopped by a hand on his chest. He turns an indignant look on Genji. "I can't make you do that." 

"I don't tire as easily." Genji's lip quirks, his version of a reassuring smile. Lúcio doesn't have time to dispute that, to point out the almost omnipresent dark circles under his eyes, before Genji continues. "I have driven long distances before, with Jesse. It's alright." 

"I know you can do it, but giving you all the work?" Lúcio pouts. When anger doesn't work, that usually does-- but this time, to no avail. "It's not fair." 

"You can finish your forms," Genji answers, "and I can drive. We do what comes easily to each of us. That seems fair to me." 

Resolve crumbling slowly under the sure, even cadence of Genji's voice, Lúcio crosses his arms over his chest, trapping Genji's hand between his forearms. "Implying that paperwork comes easily to me," he grumbles. 

Genji wiggles his fingers, chuckling under his breath when Lúcio releases him with a yelp. "I can have my brother on the line to help," he offers with absolutely no regard for Hanzo's schedule or willingness to help Lúcio do paperwork, "if you need it." 

Lúcio mulls that over. He absently notes that for all they've been through, Genji fell easily back into the role of little brother, taking liberties with Hanzo he would never dream of taking with anyone else (except _maybe_ McCree). His own impulse to not depend on others surfaces briefly, but the thought of filling in dozens of pages worth of information that Lúcio barely understands himself quickly overshadows that inclination. "Yeah?" he asks, realizing he's been quiet just a few seconds too long. "That gonna be alright?" 

"I would not offer if it wasn't." 

"Yeah, okay." Grinning, Lúcio reaches up, tapping his finger against Genji's chin until the cyborg leans obligingly down to have his cheeks squished. He has no intention of calling on Hanzo for help, but some time to focus on the forms would certainly help. He resolves to send the man a message, to at least confirm his availability. "Driving sucks," he adds.

"I like it," says Genji. "Very calming." 

"I don't even know how people used to do it." 

"They didn't have a choice." 

"But you've done road trips before?" Lúcio frees Genji's face and pulls a light blanket up around his own shoulders. "With Blackwatch?" 

"Yes." The distant, wistful expression on Genji's face isn't new, but the moment doesn't last nearly as long as it used to. He follows up with a wry quirk of his lips. "Although I don't know if McCree would say I was very good company."

* * *

They settle quickly into a routine as they pass through most of Brazil. Genji doesn't need quite as much rest or time to stretch his legs as Lúcio does, but they stop every three hours anyway-- Lúcio usually picks up a snack, a drink, sometimes a coconut or bags of ice-cold sugarcane juice from some roadside stand, yelling for Genji to pull over before they pass it. Genji samples his way through the selection, cheerfully following Lúcio's lead. 

Lúcio's managed to rig his amplifier to project a portable workstation instead of a DJ stand, three screens and a flat top for his tablet. He fires it up the moment he sits and turns it off mostly when his vision begins to blur. Genji glimpses a text conversation with Hanzo on one screen, blueprints on another and an e-mail client open on the last. On the tablet, some pamphlet of Brazilian building codes is open to page eighty-six, not even halfway to the end. Lúcio frowns at the screen, then squints at the blueprint, checks something on his phone, and sighs loudly.

Genji glances at him, then looks back at the road. "What's wrong?"

Indicating the forms, Lúcio grimaces. "It's not easy to have just enough capital to fund the projects," he says, scratching a mosquito bite on his chin with his stylus, "and not enough to hire someone to deal with the actual paperwork."

"You could if you didn't donate so much," Genji points out, still looking straight ahead. He's never indicated any interest in Lúcio's financial situation yet always seems to know it, which Lúcio decides not to question. There's a good chance his record earnings are public, as well as his philanthropic contributions. Genji always was skilled at recon. 

Lúcio exhales through his teeth, jotting down the bank account number Hanzo sends him, to associate with the establishment of a foundation. He'd given the man full access to his records, Genji vouching for Hanzo's professionalism (and his lack of interest in an amount of money that's frankly almost laughable to the owner of the Shimada Group). "What else would I do with it all?" he asks, trying to imagine a multi-million dollar mansion and feeling immediately repulsed at the idea. 

"More money," Genji agrees, "more problems."

"Alright, Biggie," Lúcio says, laughing, "let's stop at the next town."

He laughs harder when Genji turns to him, a quizzical look behind the glass of his visor. "Who?"

* * *

They pull into Rio de Janeiro three days later, bedraggled and exhausted. A kid spots Lúcio as they pass through a bustling city square, gasps, and disappears into a dimly-lit alleyway. She reappears at the border of Lúcio's favela not twenty minutes later with an entire cohort of children, all of them shouting Lúcio's name and greeting him in excitable Portuguese. The voices instantly overwhelm Genji's on-board transciption software, and he reads the nonsensical string of translated words scrolling across his HUD with a sigh. 

Lúcio entertains the crowd for a good ten minutes before he finally says something that sends them scattering, disappearing into the narrow maze of streets. "Sorry about that," he laughs, finally addressing Genji, who had retreated under a nearby awning to escape the sun and the kids. "They recognized me."

"Should we have come in disguise?" asks Genji, sounding ready to move on wrangling children if he has to, in case word leaked out to anyone who might have a vested interest in keeping Lúcio out of Brazil.

"Nah, they're good kids."

Lúcio's first stop anyway is a half-finished building on the outskirts of his favela, wedged between an electronics store and a clothing shop. Both of them lack storefronts, signs, any indication that they're shops except for what Genji can glimpse through small, darkened windows with their curtains half-drawn. 

"Clinic," Lúcio says, a proud smile on his face. "Or at least, it will be in a couple months. Got a friend working at the local hospital who's gonna take over, she's been wanting her own practice."

Genji makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, but he keeps his eyes on the shops around Lúcio's clinic-in-progress, looking for signs or even a cashier table inside. "How do those stores get any business?" he asks.

"They... don't. Not here." Lúcio points down the street, a strained smile on his face. "I think they were abandoned a couple years back so the shop owners on the corners just moved their stuff in and used it for storage. Knock a wall out and put in a door, you've got a warehouse."

Lúcio's expression doesn't reflect the resolute pride in his voice and Genji's struck, not for the first time, at how differently they had been raised. There was nothing the Shimadas couldn't afford, no access they were denied. Even in Blackwatch, the budget was hefty enough that Reyes rarely had to scavenge for funding or deny requests; it was in Nepal where he first saw the harshest kind of environment tempered by cooperation and community. "Resourceful," Genji says. 

"We have to be." Lúcio recognizes it for the high praise it is coming from Genji, and grins. "I picked this location 'cause it's near the hospital, but close enough to most of the hotspots that people can get here quick if they need to. And it'll be easy to hook up water, electricity, internet. The works."

"No infrastructure?"

"Nah." Lúcio points at a cluster of cables wedged awkwardly along the scaffolding of a tattered awning. "You see all those wires hanging out in the open? We drag in cables, pipes, everything ourselves."

Turning to him, Genji laughs, softly. "Looks like your handiwork," he says. "It shouldn't work, but it does. Probably better than if it were installed as originally intended."

"Some of it is." Lúcio cups a hand over his mouth, motioning for Genji to lean down so he can mutter into his ear. "I rounded up a couple friends and we used to go around setting up internet for the neighbors for a couple reais each. There's hubs every couple blocks projecting a signal."

Genji copies the gesture, whispering into Lúcio's ear. "The government doesn't have a problem with all this?"

"Internet went public a few years before I was born," Lúcio explains, "so it should be free for everyone. They were dragging their feet on bringing it to the favelas, so we took it into our own hands after Vishkar." Lúcio motions for Genji to follow him and gingerly pushes open the clinic's door. "Guess they're willing to look the other way if they don't have to spend anything on us. As usual."

"I see where you get it now," Genji tells him, watching Lúcio pick up a roll of cables and sling it over his shoulder to move across the room. 

Lúcio glances over his shoulder as he sets down his loot and turns, confused. "Get what?"

"Taking things into your own hands."

Lúcio laughs. "I've got one more site to check out," he says. "Then I'll take you around my neighborhood."

* * *

The second site is an empty lot close enough to the beach that Genji's sensors register an uptick in the air's saline content. If he could smell like he used to, it would've meant that he could smell the ocean; Lúcio takes a breath and confirms his hypothesis, making a 'Ta-da!' gesture toward the patch of scrubby grass and crumbling concrete wall sections. "Gonna be a community center," he says. "Food, tutoring, the works. It's a nice neighborhood, I can arrange transportation, and it'll be good for some of the kids to have a place to hang out instead of fleecing tourists in the square."

No stranger to bureaucratic red tape, Genji scuffs his feet in the dirt, eyeing decked-out buildings around Lúcio's plot. "Do you need permits for that?" 

"Yeah, things get complicated when you're in an area this nice." The exasperation that crosses Lúcio's face turns to trepidation, and he cracks a hesitant smile. "Your brother helped me out, actually."

Genji looks at him, visibly wracking his brains for Hanzo's particular skillset in this kind of situation, the tilt of his head speaking volumes more than any kind of expression could. He turns back to the lot, the set of his shoulders perplexed. "With tax fraud?" 

That gets a startled bark of laughter, and Lúcio shakes his head. "I was having some trouble clearing the application for this 'cause someone wanted to build a hotel here before I sniped the lot." More politics. The disgust in his voice is clear, and Genji nods in agreement. "He caught it in the paperwork and gave me a heads-up."

"Just a heads up?"

"He may or may not know a guy," Lúcio says, looking toward a coffee shop across his street to avoid his gaze. His eyes lock on a tall, broad-shouldered customer in a black jacket and a beanie. "Who knows a guy who can get these kindsa roadblocks out of the way."

Genji shrugs. It makes sense that Hanzo would've picked up an assortment of connections in his years freelancing as a mercenary, not least of them in Brazil where the Shimadas had a base of operations. "I suppose," Genji says, "I should be glad that Hanzo is using his powers for good."

Lúcio's eyes narrow. "You're okay with this?" 

"With what?" 

"Your brother being involved." He waits for Genji to remove his visor: eyes calm, expression easy. "I thought he might know what to do and give me some pointers," Lúcio explains, "I didn't think he'd go and call in a favor."

"I am glad that he can be of help to you, Lúcio." Genji flashes him a baleful smile. "Hanzo's reliable... when it suits him."

A grimace. "Family, huh?"

"Speaking of family," Genji says after a comfortable beat of silence, "will I have to meet yours?"

The smile freezes on Lúcio's face as he considers the question. Then finally: "If you want to." Genji doesn't seem to want to, but Lúcio gestures for him to extend his hand and he takes it, squeezing his fingers, heedless of anyone else on the street. "I don't mind telling them we're together, but it might be easier for 'em not to know. They know, everyone else is gonna know."

"Everyone knows you, regardless."

"That's the problem."

"I can explore while you visit." Genji gently extricates his hand and replaces his visor, but not before giving him a cheerful wink. "It's your choice, Lúcio. They are your family."

"I sorta want you to meet them," Lúcio tells him. "I mean, I met your brother."

"If I could have prevented that," Genji reminds him, "I would have."

Lúcio imagines his family meeting Genji-- not just his mother, but whatever cousins are in the area, whichever neighbors happen to catch sight of him, the friends who'd come to visit after hearing from the neighborhood kids-- and blanches at the thought of his extensive network turning all its exuberant attention on a man as reserved as Genji. "It might be a bit much for you," he concedes, wondering if Genji had already considered that scenario. "Just show up, and bail when you feel like it. I'll keep 'em busy."

"Understood." Genji follows Lúcio as he turns on his heel, heading back to the pickup. "If you require extraction," he adds, dead serious, "I will be on standby."

A laugh. Lúcio's shoulder bumps Genji's, arm slinging around his waist for the last two meters to the car door. "You know me too well."


End file.
